Luck and Intuition
by LallyintheSky
Summary: When Nationals falls far below Vocal Adrenaline's expectations, how will Jesse St. James pay the price, and how will it change every plan he has for the future?   T for language and some violence, St. Berry, Puckleberry FRIENDSHIP.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own anything or anyone, that all belongs to Ryan Murphy! Rated T for language and some violence in later chapters, also, I promise, this _does _turn into St. Berry eventually! Read & Review please!

Vocal Adrenaline had barely enough time to celebrate their Regionals win before Shelby had bid them goodbye and was out the door, as though something far more important than a Regional Show Choir win was on her mind. How ridiculous, Jesse thought; show choir was her entire life. Why would she hurry out of one of the biggest highlights of her school year? Pushing Shelby from his mind, he'd tried to catch New Directions before they hopped back on the bus, but they were long gone; the memory of Rachel's sadness and anguish burned on his brain. Why did he still care? He'd made his choice; it hadn't been her, and the only person he had to blame for that was himself.

"Jesse?" a female voice asked. He spun to find Gisele, batting her eyes at him.

"Hey Gisele," he smiled weakly. She was wearing that smile that showed she was trying too hard, and she bit her lip in what Jesse assumed was a failed attempt to seem sexy.

"Jesse, a few of the club members are going to come back to my house tonight to celebrate…" she trailed off. Jesse was sure that, as every celebration did, that would involve large amounts of alcohol, and frankly, Jesse was in no mood to get shitfaced and make poor choices.

"You know I'd love to Gisele, but…" he wracked his brain for an excuse, "I have an audition tomorrow," he explained. Gisele's face formed a scowl, and she put a hand on her hip.

"Jesse, c'mon. You've been to every party we've ever thrown!" she argued. He shook his head in frustrated protest.

"Not tonight, Gisele, please?" Jesse asked, and her eyes narrowed into a death glare.

"It's not that Berry girl, is it? Because I swear to you, Jesse, we will kick you back off just as quickly as we let you back on—"

"It's not Rachel," Jesse hissed dramatically, frustrated at Gisele's complete obliviousness to the fact she and the other members of Vocal Adrenaline had _nothing _to do with his admission to/from the group. "I told you, I have plans, and I don't feel like showing up tomorrow reeking of cigarettes and cheap beer," he bit down on his tongue hard before the words 'like you,' sprang from between his lips. Gisele sighed deeply, and stepped closer to him, her face softening.

"You did really well tonight, Jesse," she smiled. He felt his stomach turn—she was trying to be seductive. He stepped backwards and nodded curtly.

"As were you," Jesse returned politely. Gisele crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

"Let's get one thing straight, St. James. You and I are stars, and now that you're single, don't you think it's about time we hooked up?" she asked, tilting her head towards him awaiting his reply. He opened his mouth and closed it quickly, horrified.

"Gisele," he began. His pink shirt was still stuck to him with sweat, and he could feel his heart pounding. "I…can't…" He wracked his brain for a believable excuse to not want to be in a relationship (at least with anyone who wasn't Rachel), and then, like a flash of a miracle, words she had once spoken to him filled his ears. "Because it would be wrong for the team," he added. Gisele made a scrunched face and looked at him blankly.

"The team?" she repeated, and Jesse nodded fervently.

"Yes," he swallowed, and he could feel beads of sweat re-forming on his forehead. "I think we should stay away from distractions and keep our focus on Nationals," he explained, and after a moment, Gisele nodded curtly.

"Fine, but as soon as we win this thing, I expect my offer to be taken up," she said, turning on her heel. "Bus is leaving in ten minutes," she added.

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Blessedly, he managed to procure a seat to himself on the bus ride home, and iPod in ear, he drowned out the sounds of the rest of the world with the two men he felt could really understand him—Sondheim and Phil Collins. Just as the drum solo in "In the Air Tonight" strained through his headphones—he would never, ever use ear buds; they had been known to cause ear damage, and he couldn't risk injuring his precious ear drums, so as silly as he looked, he always carried a pair of high quality Bose headphones when he felt the need to listen to music—he received a text from Shelby. Confused, he flipped open his cell. "Big news. Is there any way you can stop by after the bus gets back?" Jesse frowned and looked around. Everyone else seemed blissfully clueless, so he assumed he was the only one to receive the message. "Sure?" he texted back, and wondering if it had something to do with Rachel, his heart dropped. He had been quite used to undercover texts from Shelby when Rachel-gate was under way, but it seemed odd that she would want to share something with him now. Thankful he'd decided to change into a gray tee and dark jeans instead of riding home in the ungodly pink top, he hopped off the bus, waved goodbye to his teammates, and jumped into his Range Rover.

Arriving at Shelby's modest home, he parked in the driveway and meandered up the walk. She was waiting for him, looking _very _un-Shelby, wearing sweatpants and the Vocal Adrenaline tee from his freshman year, her hair in a messy bun, but she was beaming as she pushed open the glass storm door.

"Jesse," she greeted as he stepped into the house. He had a clear view of the living room over her shoulder and, usually immaculate from lack of use, he could see piles of colorful boxes and bags…_baby things? _He turned to Shelby with a puzzled look, and for a moment, he panicked. Had he gotten Rachel pregnant? Oh god, what would he do? He had to go to college, he had to get out of Ohio, how could he face her after all he'd done?

"Jesse," Shelby said, and he followed her into the living room, taking a seat on the sofa as she sat in the armchair. "I've asked you to come tonight so I could tell you something very important." He glanced once more at the pile, his heart thundering in his chest. Why would Shelby have needed to buy everything now, they would have had at least eight months to prepare. Suddenly Jesse shook his head stupidly. He'd never even done anything with Rachel, how could he possibly have thought he'd gotten her pregnant? He ran a hand through his hair and looked back to Shelby.

"Jesse," she continued, "I've adopted a baby." Jesse sat back, stunned, and then broke into a wide grin.

"Congratulations, wow, Miss Corcoran!" he stood to hug her, but she waved for him to sit back down. He obeyed, embarrassed, and she continued.

"This is big for me, Jesse. You, obviously, out of all the people I know, understand how badly I've wanted this, how badly I've wanted a little girl to call my own."

"Oh, it's a girl?" he asked. Shelby scowled at him once more, and his cheeks flushed slightly.

"Jesse, I felt the need to inform you of this first because I've always felt a strong bond with you, almost as though you were my own son." There was a pause, and then, "I'm leaving Vocal Adrenaline. As of Monday, I will no longer be your coach."

There was a tangible silence in the room. Jesse looked at his fingers, his heart pounding. After all he'd done for her, after all of the hell he'd put himself through, she was abandoning him, just like that, like nothing. Abandoning him, just like everyone else had in his life—his parents, his friends, everyone—except one girl who he'd chosen to abandon instead. Jesse's throat was dry.

"What about Nationals?" he was finally able to mutter. They wouldn't be able to go to Nationals without a coach, and he was aware that some of the juniors scholarships were riding on placing at Nationals, just as his had been merely a year before. He saw regret in Shelby's eyes, and it was a moment before she spoke.

"We'll find someone," she said, but Jesse shook his head.

"There's not enough time," he was sure. Nationals would take place in two weeks, barely enough time for Vocal Adrenaline to learn a new killer routine—a new killer routine that their director had apparently given no thought to whatsoever. This had apparently just dawned on Shelby as well, who had clearly been so wrapped up in having a baby that she hadn't truly considered the consequences of such a rash decision.

"Miss Corcoran, if I may be blunt, you can't do this to these kids," he muttered. "Some of us have everything riding on another trip to Nationals," and as the words left his mouth, he remembered his promise to Gisele earlier and shuddered. "You don't have to be there as much as you have…hell, you don't have to be there at all really, just be there. Please," he added. Suddenly, a cry erupted from the baby monitor on the coffee table, and Shelby excused herself, leaving Jesse alone in her spacious living room. When she returned, she carried an infant wrapped in a pink blanket and a bottle, and she fed the child while turning her gaze back to Jesse.

"Being a mom is a full time job," Shelby began, and as Jesse opened his mouth to argue, she silenced him with a look. "But," she continued, "I'll make a deal with you. You get them ready, you choose the songs and get in touch with Dakota Stanley, and I'll be there to represent you in New York. Does that sound okay?" Jesse nodded silently, and Shelby smiled at the baby.

"What's her name?" Jesse asked after a minute. Shelby smiled up at him.

"Beth," she said. "Bethany Quinn Corcoran." Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"Quinn?" he asked. It wasn't a very common name—and then he was struck with realization. "She had her baby?" Shelby nodded.

"Almost a month early too, but Beth is just fine, isn't she?" Shelby giggled at her daughter. "Quinn wants no part of her daughter's life, so I figured I should at least attribute something to her. The father on the other hand," she rolled her eyes. "It's going to be a semi-open adoption with him. You know, pictures, updates, but we agreed that he'll keep his distance, like I did, unless she decides to come to him. So he'll know about her and know how she is, but she'll never know of him. He's a good kid," Shelby added thoughtfully. "He really cares, and I think he truly wanted to keep her." Jesse shrugged. He'd never really known too much about Puck, just that he and Quinn were always fighting and he'd been one of the guys who he'd been triple cast with in Rachel's video. The thought made his stomach twirl again, and he stood.

"I should be going," he said, nodding to the baby. Shelby agreed and stood to show him the door, but he waved her off. "I'll be fine," he said. She stood and bit her lip.

"My briefcase is near the door. Take the red folder with you, it's got some ideas for Nationals," Shelby said, and after a moment, she followed after Jesse, enveloping him in a tight one-armed hug. "Thank you Jesse," she said after a moment. "Good luck," she added.

"Thanks," Jesse grinned, and without another word, he was out the door and headed for his car. _I'm gonna need it. _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't own the show or any of the music! Also, the use of such an overused, ridiculous song is intentional; I wanted to show that VA is losing their "edge." Also, if you've never heard "Where I wanna Be," look it up, it's FABULOUS, and a great Jesse song!

The rest of Vocal Adrenaline did not take the news of their new "coach" all too well. There was a serious lack of cooperation, and many did not like the idea that Jesse was to be considered their superior. They were in their assigned locations for vocal rehearsals as Jesse was passing out music, and he could her several of them scoffing distastefully as they saw what they would perform.

"Oh my god, are you kidding?"

"This is like a bad soft rock radio playlist."

"Jesus, Jesse, are you like, 40?"

"Guys," Jesse said fiercely as he handed a copy of the songs to Paul, their rehearsal pianist, "Some of these are Shelby's picks too," he pulled a stool to the front of the room, and Adam, a burly but talented fellow senior rolled his eyes.

"Oh look, St. James thinks he's too good to sit with the rest of his section, he gets a stool."

"Yeah, who's going to pick soloists? It's a bit unfair if you just let yourself have one," a blonde girl in the alto section sneered. Jesse rolled his eyes.

"I'll have Paul listen to us and choose, and we'll have the same audition process for solos. For today, section leaders will take them, just like always," Jesse was quickly becoming irritated. "As for why I'm up here, someone has to keep time so we don't get off," he rubbed his temple. "Can we start with please?"

"None of these seem all that challenging," another member countered. Jesse looked to Gisele for support, but she just smirked back at him. Jesse let out an irritated sigh.

"Fine, do you guys have any suggestions then?"

"We've put a little something together while you were _away,"_ Adam said, emphasizing the last word. Jesse's nostrils flared, but he closed his eyes and ignored it. They stood, pushing chairs out of the way and emptying out most of the choir room. Jesse looked to Paul for help, but Paul just shrugged. Jesse took a seat staring into the empty room, while Gisele put a CD in the player. A familiar intro began, but Jesse couldn't quite place it. He watched the blonde girl, Chelsea, step forward, and when she began to sing, he very nearly choked.

"_Can we pretend that airplanes  
In the night sky  
Are like shooting stars?  
I could really use a wish right now." _

Jesse rolled his eyes. He detested this song, and he couldn't understand how his teammates could possibly believe this was Nationals material. Adam had stepped forward now, and Jesse cringed; he was not looking forward to hearing him rap. Thankfully, they had used an arrangement in which he sang more than rapped, and Jesse sighed. He was full aware that he would have to consent to the usage of this song in order to get _anything _else done, and he had to admit that the ballet-like choreography was pretty original. His only gripe was the references to rapping, but he was sure something could be done. Reluctantly, he clapped when they were finished, and sighed heavily.

"Fine, we'll use this, but we're doing two of the numbers I picked."

"Anything but "One More Night,"" a mousy blonde boy piped up. Jesse rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Fine."

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After it was decided that they would perform "Airplanes," "The Prayer," and "Where I Want To Be," Jesse set to work on rehearsing the pieces. "The Prayer," was fairly easy, seeing as everyone had heard the song at least once. Gisele did a fine job on the female solo, and he was nearly positive she would end up getting it anyway. Adam had struggled a bit on the Italian in his solo, and Jesse had become quickly frustrated; he would have done it _much _better. But, he had compromised with Adam for "The Prayer" if he could rehearse the solo in "Where I Want To Be." He'd never heard the song before, but after looking through Shelby's notes, had found it circled and starred with a scribbling of "Jesse?" next to it. He had Youtubed the song and found a recording of Josh Groban performing it; apparently it was from some musical called "Chess." Jesse had been highly put off by this—a musical he didn't know? But after listening to the song, he was fully aware that Shelby had been right—he was meant to perform this song.

"This song would be performed much like Bohemian Rhapsody, with a lead vocalist and everyone else doing background vocals," Jesse explained.

"Bet you want that lead vocalist to be you, eh?" cried out a bass of whose name Jesse was unsure. He closed his eyes briefly, but said nothing.

"This song is about anguish. About doing what you love but feeling that you're being pushed and never really truly feeling happy, and you're forbidden to be with the one thing that makes you truly blissful," Jesse explained to the unwilling group. He turned and nodded to Paul, and he took a deep breath.

As he sang the song, he felt as though the song had been written for him; Shelby had been sure on that. Even with the rest of the club pissy with him, he could tell that he was striking a chord within them. When he finished, he was sweating slightly (he really had to go to the doctor and get that checked up), and his audience clapped. They continued to work the numbers, and at 6, Jesse dismissed them for their 45-minute dinner break. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Shelby. "Hey momma. =] It's going well. They wanted to do one of their own numbers so I think I'm going to let them." He watched the rest of the group meandering out to their cars through the choir room window, and he sighed, looking up. Once again, he was alone. He missed Andrea, his female lead and best friend. She had quit Vocal Adrenaline just a few weeks into their senior year because of health problems—the doctor had pretty much told her she had to choose Vocal Adrenaline or her life, and surprisingly, Andrea had chosen her life. Jesse was unsure if even he would have made that choice, but she often said how much happier she was to have her life back. Jesse had had a slight taste of that freedom when he'd been with New Directions, and it was only now that he understood what Andrea had meant.

Grabbing his things, he jumped in his car and rushed to Wendy's, ordering his usual: a junior bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a frosty, then brought his meal back to the choir room and ate alone. God, he hated being alone. Even after Andrea had left, Shelby had spent her dinner break with him. Jesse found being alone to be the scariest thing, not because he feared, but because it was then when he would find his thoughts drifting off to Rachel Berry.

He laughed bitterly as his mind went back to that night at Shelby's when, for an instant, he believed he had fathered a child. Amidst all the panic and terror he had felt at that moment, there had been hope: hope that he would once more see Rachel and that, perhaps under the circumstances, she would forgive him and they would be in love again—but this had been a fleeting dream, and here he was, alone.

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An hour later, Jesse still sat, furiously, in his chair in the choir room. Vocal Adrenaline was purposely being insubordinate because they felt they could go against the wishes of their new "coach." He considered calling Shelby, but what good would that do, other than annoy a new mother who probably hadn't had much sleep, and, frankly, didn't care that much about the group anyway. He imagined the group, hanging out and laughing at a pizza place completely careless to the fact they hadn't invited Jesse. Things hadn't been so bad before Regionals—although he'd been welcomed back timidly (they were all still of the impression he had, in fact, left to follow the girl, despite how many times he assured them he'd been spying—Shelby had forbidden him from admitting the truth) they had still welcomed him back, and he had graciously accepted the lead in Bohemian Rhapsody. He'd gone out to get hot wings with a few of them one Thursday night, and everything had seemed back to normal. Although he hated to admit it, he knew exactly when the animosity started back up—when he'd been caught watching Rachel perform "Faithfully."

_They'd been getting ready for their performance. They were last, which was god because they'd be freshest in the judges' minds. He'd told them he was running to make one last bathroom stop before they were to go on—but instead he snuck into the back of the theatre just as Rachel and Finn had made it to the stage, belting out Journey's "Faithfully." Rachel was flawless, as she always was, but Finn's performance was flawed, at best. He was pitchy, and his footwork seemed clumsy as he made his way across the stage. Jesse had to admit that the addition of the rest of the club as background vocals was creative, but he couldn't ignore the ridiculous faces that Finn made as he painfully screeched out the high notes. Rage seared through Jesse as he watched Rachel take Finn's hand and return to her place on the stage as they quickly changed gears into "Any Way You Want It." As the boys came forward and did (in Jesse's opinion) sloppy choreography, he had to wonder where he would have been placed if they'd kept him…well, if he hadn't left. Jesse felt guilty—their choreography looked unrehearsed…well, all except for Rachel, who performed the steps with expert grace. Jesse had been slightly taken aback when Puck had sung; he'd never known the teen to be much of a leading male. Clearly this section had been meant for him, Jesse deduced, and continued to watch the performance, wondering how much time he had left to watch before anyone became suspicious. Once more, the jealousy reared its head in Jesse's heart as he watched Rachel's hand trail dangerously close to Finn's lower half on a dance move. Jesse rolled his eyes in disappointment when they performed what appeared to be a "free-for-all" section; many of the girls were vogueing, the song ended and they spun. Jesse knew he would have to leave soon, but he couldn't help himself—he was incredibly curious as to their last song. Immediately he realized it was "Don't Stop Believing," and he found himself smiling—the song was incredibly appropriate for the situation. Once again Puck surprised him, and once again he deduced it was supposed to be him, but even more surprising was that of the snobby cheerleader. He'd had no idea she could sing…and she was decent! Once again, the choreography was sub-par, but they would get better in time, Jesse was sure. Suddenly, he felt a forceful hand on his arm. _

_ "What the __**hell**__ do you think you're doing?" Gisele asked him furiously. "We have less than two minutes!" she dragged him from the room, and Jesse turned to take one final look towards Rachel; she was dancing with the wheelchair kid, happier than he'd ever seen her before. _

Jesse snapped out of his reverie—it was 7:30; this was ridiculous. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Gisele. It went to her machine, and Jesse rolled his eyes furiously.

"Where the _hell _are you? We have two weeks to Nationals, in case you guys forgot, so get your asses back here _now,_" he growled, snapping his phone shut.

"Wow, Jesse. I've never seen you quite so spiteful," said a voice, and he spun. There was Andrea standing in the doorway, arms folded and a smile on her face. Jesse's eyes widened and he rushed over to her, enveloping her in a tight hug.

"Oh my god, Andi, I am _so _happy to see you," he exclaimed, beaming. "God, today has just been such hell," he added. Andrea frowned.

"Where's Shelby?' she asked.

"Probably changing diapers," Jesse hissed, and when Andrea looked at him confused, he added, "She adopted a kid." Andrea's eyes were wide.

"So…she just…left you?"

"I'm acting director for rehearsals, but she'll still come represent us at Nationals…if we're even ready by then. They all ditched because they think since I'm in charge it doesn't matter if we rehearse…and they want to do "_Airplanes" _at nationals. Can you believe that? Fucking _**"Airplanes."**_ I mean, give me a break," Jesse rolled his eyes, while Andrea laughed. "How'd you do it, Andi?"

"Do what?" Andrea questioned, puzzled. Jesse turned to her.

"Give up everything you thought you wanted for something more important?" he sat back down in a plastic chair, and Andrea followed.

"I had to Jesse. I had to or I would have died. I was seventeen years old; I wasn't ready to hear something like that. But there it was, staring me in the face, and I had to stop. I had to give it up," she shrugged. "Sure, it sucked at first, but the benefits _far _outweighed the downsides."

"I just can't imagine being Shelby. I mean giving everything up, an entire lifestyle, just to have something you've always wanted. I mean, she told me she wanted to be a star, but she knows that's never going to happen…is that going to be me? Am I doomed to fail and am I going to regret everything I've chosen for myself?"

"Maybe," Andrea said. Her answer started Jesse, and he stared at the tile floor for a long time before he spoke.

"This used to make us so happy And. What happened?"

"What always happens? Life."

"I'm going to be out of here in a month," Jesse spoke with realization, "And then none of this is going to matter. It won't matter if I got a solo or not, if I was a superstar or not. No one is going to know and no one is going to care," he said. Andrea shrugged.

"It's complicated as hell, isn't it?" They laughed, and there was a clatter as the choir room door flew open and the laughing students poured back in. Andrea stood quickly, but it was too late—Gisele was already over to them.

"Oh, Andrea. Lovely to see you here," she said with a sneer. Andrea smiled politely, but her eyes said it all.

"You too Gisele," she turned to Jesse, "I should be going."

"Right," he said, and they began to walk towards the classroom door. "Get set up for "Prayer,"" Jesse instructed, and he leaned against the doorframe.

"Lovely girl," Andrea said sarcastically as she stared after Gisele. "She was all to happy to take my place, wasn't she?" Jesse just laughed.

"She's usually flat," he admitted, and Andrea snorted. "I'll see you around?" he questioned, and Andrea nodded.

"You know it," she said, waving. "Bye Jess."

"Bye And," he said, watching as she meandered down the hallway before turning back to the room. "Alright, five minutes of scales, _now._"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: this is probably my favorite chapter so far, because I really wish something like this would have happened. Also, I think Shelby is my favorite character to write, because she has no problem speaking her mind, lol. Once again, I own nothing, that all belongs to RyMurph. Also, you can find the version of DSB/JD on youtube under the name "Just Stop Believing," but I liked "Don't Stop Dancing," better, I thought it sounded more positive, lol! Read and Review please!

By Friday of that week, choreography had been learned, and it was all about precision now. Shelby would be stopping by just to check on everything and show off Beth, so Jesse would finally have some accompaniment making crucial decisions. They were rehearsing the dance moves for "Airplanes," Jesse's gray shirt soaked in sweat, when he saw Shelby creep in the back of the theatre. The rehearsal fell to shit once everyone noticed she was here, so he cut the song and let her make her way to the stage.

"Hey guys," she smiled, and was met with mixed reactions. Some were happy to see her again, others were furious at her sudden departure. "This is Beth," she said, showing off the sleeping baby. "So, I liked whatever I saw there," she said, taking a seat in the front row. "Can you start that number over from the beginning?"

They watched her anxiously when they were finished, awaiting her response. She nodded, and then finally spoke.

"It could work. Let me see what else we have," she said. They began "The Prayer," and they were barely a minute in before she began to shout.

"Dear god, no. Just stop," she said, holding up a free hand. "Absolutely not. I'm bored out of my mind. Get something more upbeat," she said to Jesse, and he nodded. "Seriously, no sappy, depressing stuff. I want power, I want energy," she growled. "What's the last one?"

Jesse belted out "Where I Want To Be," with everything he had in him, and he watched Shelby break out into a wide smile. He waited to be appraised, and she was still beaming.

"I see you took my advice on that one," she said, and nodded. "Absolutely. And Jesse, I want you to take the solo, in case you hadn't decided that already," she added, and several Vocal Adrenaline males grumbled. "Now, we need to come up with something much better for the third number," she frowned, and Jesse could see the wheels turning in her brain.

"What if we just recycle "Bad Romance?"" offered a brunette alto. Shelby gave her a look.

"Oh, because that's not what every other group there will be doing," she responded sarcastically. "I want old, I want like…eighties!" she said, and the group stared at her in horror. "Oh don't give me that," she rolled her eyes.

"What about a compromise?" Jesse asked. Shelby turned to him.

"What are you on about St. James?" she questioned. Memories of Rachel's performance flooded his mind—her happiness, her joys, her excitement. Jesse waited a moment to speak, fearing his voice would break.

"When I was looking for music, I found a really interesting mashup," he explained. ""Don't Stop Dancing"….Gaga's "Just Dance," and "Don't Stop Believing," he offered. There was a sudden surge of excitement in everyone's voices, while Shelby nodded slowly. Finally, she smiled.

"Can you get the new music by Monday?"

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She talked them through the two remaining numbers and then decided they were free to go, and Jesse raced to speak with her before she left. They walked together to her car, Jesse asking about life as a new mother and Shelby expressing her joy over having a daughter. When they got to her car, she turned to Jesse, smirking.

"Don't think I don't know where you came up with the idea for the new song," she said, eyeing him knowingly. Jesse quickly reddened.

"You still care a lot about her, don't you?" Shelby asked, and Jesse shifted uncomfortably. "I thought _you_ broke up with _her_?"

"I did, but…okay look, Shelby, you have to not get mad, okay?"

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"Get your _**asses **_back on stage!" Shelby was screaming to Vocal Adrenaline, storming into the auditorium. Jesse was chasing behind, carrying the infant Shelby had left in the car when she rushed back into the high school. Everyone looked shocked, and stood attentively in a line at the front of the stage.

"Alright, which one of you is going to be _brave _enough to tell me who the hell's idea it was to go and throw eggs at my daughter?" Shelby was seething, and Jesse stayed hidden at the back of the auditorium with the little girl. Everyone shifted their weight to one foot and some gave committing glances toward Gisele.

"Gisele Richter, you little brat. You are obscenely lucky we're two weeks from Nationals or I would have your uniform and your Range Rover from you so quickly you wouldn't know what hit you!" She was pacing the floor in front of the stage. "So who's going to be brave enough to tell me the story, hmm?" she asked, folding her arms. Adam stepped forward.

"We were doing a Funkification, ma'am," he began, and Shelby turned to glare at him. "Like we do every year," he continued.

"Yes, but I thought you had already done McKinley with the _rehearsed "_Another One Bites the Dust,"" Shelby asked. Gisele rolled her eyes.

"For the love of god," she began. "Look, we were all wigging out about St. James leaving us for some bi—some girl," she corrected as Shelby stepped towards her. "And then all of a sudden he just comes back out of nowhere, like nothing happened? It was mega suspicious. So, we had to do something to prove that he was on our side, so we made him do it. Weasel of a bastard didn't want to either, we told him it was her or us, and if he didn't do it we weren't going to let him perform at Regionals," Gisele shrugged as though it were the most logical thing in the world, and Jesse was sure she couldn't see him standing in the shadows.

"So you thought it would be a wise idea to egg the daughter of your coach?"

"_Former_ coach," Gisele retorted.

_"Not yet,"_ Shelby snapped back.

Suddenly, a boy in the front row mumbled something. Shelby turned on him.

"What was that?"

"I said, you don't even like her!" he repeated. Shelby's eyes widened. "I mean, you're the one who gave her up…"

"You presumptuous little asshole!" she screeched. The boy rolled his eyes.

"It's true! You have this teenage daughter, yet all of a sudden you come in with a fresh model and you're like, "See you guys, gotta go raise a kid when I didn't even bother to raise mine!"" There was a tangible silence in the air as Shelby digested the words the boy had spoken. Finally, she smoothed her hair and squared her shoulders, and Jesse laughed silently from the back—he had never appreciated the phrase "like mother, like daughter" so much in his life.

"If some of you didn't have scholarships riding on this I would pull you all out of competition so fast your heads would spin! I will be attending _every _rehearsal from now until competition," she finally decided, and Jesse felt a huge surge of relief. "You _will _be here at 2:30 on Monday and you _will _learn the new choreography and it _will_ make "Bohemian Rhapsody" look like "The Chicken Dance." Do you hear me?" She was at a decibel even bats could hear, Jesse was sure. He watched Shelby turn on her heel and storm towards the back of the theatre, and she was startled when Jesse stepped from the shadows.

"Oh shit," she exclaimed when he handed her the sleeping baby. "I'm a terrible mother, aren't I?" she asked. Jesse laughed and shook his head, but Shelby still looked miserable. "I abandoned her," she added, and Jesse shrugged.

"I mean, it was fine, I was right there," he said, but Shelby's expression remained dismal.

"No…Rachel."

xxxxxxxxx

Jesse, Shelby, and Beth sat in a booth at Breadstix. Jesse felt self conscious as he was still wearing his sweaty rehearsal clothes, but Shelby had seemed so miserable that he simply couldn't let her leave and go home alone.

"Jesse, I'm a terrible mother," she repeated after the waitress had left them a diet coke and a hot tea. Shelby emptied a packet of Sweet & Low into her tea and turned the spoon absentmindedly, but Jesse shook his head.

"You're not," he protested for what felt like the seventy-fifth time, but Shelby's expression had yet to change.

"Edward was right, I just replaced my daughter with a new model," she wailed. Jesse frowned.

"You could always just be there for both of them," he argued logically. Shelby looked up at him.

"But she'll still always feel replaced just because Beth exists!"

"Miss Corcoran—"

"Jesse, really, you're practically my son, just call me Shelby already," she said, waving her hand. Jesse knotted his eyebrows, he'd always preferred the air of formality, but then he shrugged.

"Right, Shelby. I think Rachel would be thrilled to have you in her life, even with Beth, rather than not have you at all," Jesse explained. Shelby took a sip of tea and sighed.

"Yeah, but what do I say? "Sorry I've sucked as a motherly figure, Rachel, but adopting a baby has made me put my priorities in order?""

"Frankly? Yes," Jesse said. Shelby laughed.

"You're a good kid, Jesse," she smiled as the waitress brought over a basket of the (not so) infamous breadsticks. Jesse busied himself with one while Shelby stirred her tea. Finally, she looked up.

"I'd like to hear your side of the story," she said. Jesse looked up from his breadstick, confused.

"What?"

"Rachel. What happened there?" she asked. Jesse laughed aloud; this was a situation he never would have believed he would find himself in—having dinner with the mother of the love of his life, both estranged from the girl.

"Should I start before or after you intervened?" Jesse smirked. Shelby laughed and rolled her eyes.

"I know, I know. We go to sectionals, you and I both agree the female vocalist from New Directions is phenomenal, I look her up in the program, recognize the name Berry, am astonished, you can't get over that she didn't screw up Barbara, everyone else just wants to go home. I go home, look her up, find her videos online, and I recruit you to go meet her and let me know what she's like. That's where I get confused," Shelby explained. Jesse shrugged and took a deep breath.

"I don't know, I guess when I saw her at Sectionals I thought maybe she was only good at that one song, you know? So when I sang with her, something just sort of…snapped. She was beautiful…gets that from her mother," he added charmingly, and Shelby snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Shut the hell up," she laughed, waving for him to continue.

"Well, we went out on a few dates, and I was smitten. I tried to pretend like you hadn't given me the mission, tried to convince myself I was just acting, but it was useless—this girl was different. So I came to you, convinced you to let me transfer…said it would be good for the assignment you'd given me, but to be honest, I just wanted to spend more and more time with this girl. So as time went on, I completely forgot about your assignment for me—until she triple cast me as her boyfriend."

"What?" Shelby asked, confused. Jesse laughed.

"She made a music video for Glee and had three people play her boyfriend."

"Isn't that a little…trashy?" Shelby sounded concerned. Jesse shrugged.

"She was trying to improve her image, make herself seem less wholesome. It didn't work though, it just pissed a lot of people off. That's when I went on spring break with the gang and had a miserable time," Jesse admitted. "I was just so angry with her because I cared so much about her," he explained, taking a bite of breadstick.

"Understandable," Shelby said. Beth had stirred, and she was currently giving her a bottle as she listened. Jesse had to laugh at the absurdity of his situation again; he'd never shared the story with anyone, not even Rachel, yet here he was.

"Well, they asked me what I was doing; what I was going to do when New Directions lost and my pristine image was tarnished when I went to UCLA. Asked what I was going to do when I was in California and she was still here and how it was ever going to work, and that was when I realized I was in far deeper than I'd ever planned to be. And so I tried to come back, but you told me no and gave me the tape. I had to force myself to believe this was just an assignment, so I pestered her until she finally admitted everything. So I made her listen to the tape and…that was it," he sighed, ashamed of himself. "We sang "Dream a Little Dream," with Glee club, I drove her home, kissed her goodbye…and came back here, begging for forgiveness and to be let back in the club," he sighed. Shelby was looking at him comfortingly.

"Have you tried talking to her?" Shelby offered. Jesse scoffed.

"She'd never take me back. She's with that blundering oaf of a teenager now anyway," Jesse heaved a dramatic sigh, and Shelby snorted.

"Jesse, you're ridiculous," she picked up a breadstick with one hand, holding Beth with the other. "But, from someone who gave up everything to be famous," Shelby began, and Jesse felt the pit of his stomach drop. "It sucks when you know you made the wrong choice," she said. Jesse swallowed hard and looked up at his mentor and friend.

"Do you think I did?" he questioned. Shelby shrugged.

"Only you can know that, Jesse," she replied smoothly. "But for you, there's still time. There's always still time," she added, nodding down to the baby in her hands. Jesse rubbed his forehead, and Shelby took a breath. "Jesse…did you…egg her?" she asked, looking into his eyes. Jesse's heart sank, and he returned her gaze apologetically.

"I…I had to," he said, watching Shelby's face fall. "You heard Gisele, they weren't going to let me perform, and…at that moment, I was just so angry with her for making me fall in love—" he said, blushing as soon as the words left his mouth. Shelby smiled and nodded for him to continue. "Er…well, I was just so angry that my plans had changed so much, so I thought maybe if I convinced myself she was the enemy and that I should hate her, everything would change…but it didn't. I felt like I was egging myself," he explained. "And then I…." he trailed off, his voice warbling. He swallowed the lump in his throat and continued. "I told her I loved her as I smashed it on her forehead," he admitted, absentmindedly touching his own forehead. "She'd never forgive me, no matter what I said or did."

"This is all my fault. If I hadn't asked you to find her for me—"

"I would have gone looking for her anyway. She touched something in me, that day at sectionals. I needed her…she was meant to be in my life," Jesse said to both Shelby and himself. "But it's too late," he shrugged. "She's happy with Finn, and I can't get in the way of her happiness. It's what she always wanted," Jesse forced himself to smile.

"Jesse St. James, I have never known you to be so selfless," Shelby teased as the waitress set down their meals. Jesse shrugged as he picked up his fork.

"The name ain't _Saint _James for nothing."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Don't own anything, you know. This is the last chapter before the intense junk starts happening! lol. And I promise, Rachel will be part of the picture soon! Read and Review!

Days turned to weeks, and before he could blink, Jesse found himself packing a small suitcase for the trip to New York for the National Showchoir Championships. His arm was tender, covered with a seven-inch slice from a girl's heel during yesterday's dance rehearsal, and he was bruised and battered in places he was unaware could bruise from _dancing._ Shelby had upheld her promise, and asked Dakota to spare no ease on the group when choreographing the number. He had listened excitedly, and thus, the group came out with more injuries than ever before, with at least three collapses per rehearsal, and one girl being rushed to the hospital with a bruised femur.

But it would all be worth it by tomorrow evening, Jesse realized as he carried his suitcase through the crowded airport terminal. He had seriously considered asking Shelby if he could drive with her, as she hadn't felt safe traveling with a newborn, but he realized that might be blurring the lines of propriety. So he stood at a boarding gate, surrounded by the people who annoyed him most, huge headphones over his ears, blocking out all other noise. The soothing sounds of Elton John and Kiki Dee had just begun, when Gisele sidled up to him on the cold plastic seats. He moved the headphones down and looked to her.

"Yes?" he asked, and she giggled. It was the first time she had spoken to him since they had realized Jesse wasn't onstage for Shelby's extreme bashing of the club.

"You know," she said, batting her eyelashes. When Jesse stared at her blankly, she rolled her eyes dramatically. "After our win tomorrow, the club won't be in the way anymore," she said, putting a hand dangerously high on his leg. His nostrils flared and he recoiled from her as though she were a poisonous snake. Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. "What the _fuck _St. James?" she hissed, causing a few passers by to glance over. "You must be a faggot or something," Gisele rolled her eyes, while Jesse glared right back.

"Don't say that word! Some of the nicest people I know are gay!"

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. "I was going to offer that we celebrate together in my hotel room after our win tomorrow, but obviously you'd rather celebrate with _Adam," _she growled. "Should have known, that Berry girl looks like a man—"

"Shut the FUCK up, Gisele," Jesse said firmly. A coy smirk played in the corners of Gisele's mouth.

"You still like her!" she laughed menacingly. "You little fucking traitor."

"I mean it Gisele, get the hell away from me."

"Or what?" she asked dangerously. "See you around," she leaned in close to his ear, "Jesse," she whispered, smirking. Jesse had never hit a girl before, and he very nearly lunged toward her as she picked up her bag and sashayed away from him. Heart racing and blood boiling, Jesse slammed his headphones back on his head.

He sat blessedly alone on the plane. He'd thought better of texting "I'm going to violently murder Gisele and play around in her blood," to Shelby—the last thing she needed was one deceased soloist and one that was in jail. He watched the picture around him orchestrated by his own soundtrack. His groupmates were laughing and joking with each other. He hit the 'next' button on his iPod, and he began to chuckle to himself as Simon and Garfunkle's "The Only Living Boy In New York," blared through the miniature speakers on his ears. It was ruefully appropriate—slow and melancholy, with just a slight glimmer of hope. He decided this would be his anthem for this trip—funny, how the others had been so bright and uplifting. Freshman year it had been the theme from "New York, New York," sophomore year, "New York State of Mind," and the year previously, the theme from "42nd Street." Jesse let out a breath of air as the plane began to taxi—this was it.

xxxxxxxxx

They arrived late in New York, close to midnight, and Shelby was waiting for them at the gate with an incredibly cranky Beth. She looked frazzled as she explained the directions to the hotel to Jesse, and hurried off without a response. They checked into the hotel and Jesse crashed into his bed the moment the door was unlocked, without even bothering to change out of his jeans.

They were roused at 10 the following morning, eating brunch in the great hall on the main floor of the hotel. An exhausted Shelby greeted them, a few of the boosters gathering uniforms and props and preparing them for the drive to Radio City Music Hall. They rushed upstairs to grab garment bags and accessory bags, and piled onto the bus that was now waiting for them outside.

They arrived at the hall around 1PM, piling into the theatre and picking up their reserve tickets. He got exhilarated feeling that was all too familiar whenever he stepped into a real theatre. He loved the feeling, the idea that someone who truly was successful had performed on the very same stage that he soon would. He wouldn't call it nerves—Jesse St. James didn't get nervous—but he loved the pounding of his heart and the way his senses all became more astute. Jesse wanted to compare it with great sex, and with this, he had to laugh at himself. They were competing with five other teams, and the top three would place. They would be performing fourth, and were all of the opinion that vocal warm ups and costume preparations should begin _now _for the show beginning at 3.

As they walked to their dressing room, Shelby pulled him aside.

"I talked to Rachel," she told him, smiling warmly. Jesse put on his bravest face and nodded.

"That's great," he said. Shelby nodded, oblivious.

"Yeah. We've talked everything out and decided that, at least for now, we'll have monthly lunches. We'll get to know each other slowly, but I've made it evident that I do want to be a part of her life as long as she'll have me." Jesse grinned.

"That's great Shelby. But I…uh…I've gotta go change," he explained, nodding for the door. He made for the door to the boy's changing room.

"She's not dating Hudson," Shelby called after him, and he stopped dead. Without turning to her, he swallowed.

"How do you know?" he asked, motionless.

"She told me," Shelby said, and Jesse's heart dropped. Had she told Rachel everything he'd said? But before he had another chance to worry, Shelby explained herself.

"I told her I found out about the incident," Shelby said. "Asked her how she was doing, and she said she was okay, that she had a suitor but she wasn't quite ready to go after him yet." Jesse's heart relaxed and worried at the same time—he still had a shot, slim as it was, it was still there. She wasn't taken. Without another word, he walked into the changing rooms to put on his emerald green dress shirt and black slacks.

xxxxxxxxx

Four schools, four states had performed: California, Florida, New York, and Maine, the schools of which he hadn't bothered to listen for. This was it, they were up. He felt an unfamiliar feeling in his stomach—panic? Nerves? He was unsure, and he couldn't decipher why they were even there. He'd never experienced a feeling like this before. He waited anxiously as they announced "Three time Champions, Carmel High School's, Vocal Adrenaline!" and the applause died down as the curtains flew open and he stood, alone, in the dark. He heard the slow, haunting piano and string intro, and felt the blazing spotlight come up on his face. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.

"_Who needs a dream?  
Who needs ambition?  
Who'd be the fool  
In my position?  
Once I had dreams  
Now they're obsessions  
Hopes became needs  
Lovers possessions.  
Then they move in  
Oh so discreetly  
Slowly at first  
Smiling too sweetly  
I opened doors  
They walked right through them.  
Called me a frien…"_ his voice trailed off. There, in the fourth row. It couldn't be her, could it? Suddenly, he realized where he was, what was happening. In the brief pause he'd taken, he'd missed two lines, and the chorus was starting! He came in late, and in a song like this, it was nearly impossible for him to catch up.

"_Where Iwannabeand…wanna be  
Doing what I always said I would…feel I haven't won at all!"_ his heart was racing. He was finally caught up, but this flaw was going to be a _huge _issue, and he already feared turning around when the rest of the group took the stage. He finished the song, heart heavy; trying desperately to avoid the part of the audience he'd sworn he'd seen Rachel. As he continued, his heart continued to race as he sang a line that, although he'd acknowledged the pertinence before, struck him with an even heavier blow now.

"_But what's the point  
If I'm concealing  
Not only love,  
All other feeling…" _

He completed the song and turned to take his place, receiving angry glares from his teammates, though they kept the smiles pasted on their faces. "Airplanes" began, receiving enthusiastic responses from the rest of the crowd as they realized what they were performing, and Jesse remained hidden in the background as a featured ballet dancer—well, as close to ballet as they could come in leather oxfords and character shoes. Shelby had insisted that the references to rap be replaced, so the second verse was replaced with an adapted version of a verse from "Airplanes Part 2," a song Jesse hadn't even known existed until he was forced to listen to it as a warm up song daily before dance rehearsal. He had to admit that the easy replacement of "rapper" to "star" and "A" to "place," made a huge change, and Adam's voice was well suited for the roughness of the song. As the girls continuously spun around the lead vocalists, Jesse and the boys did bounding leaps across the stage. The song ended with the boys holding the females up in high poses, and the audience burst into applause. They scurried into their positions for their closer, Rachel's exuberant face from her last performance of this song burned as an image on Jesse's eyelids. The heavy dance beat began, and without a moment to catch his breath, they began the excruciating four-and-a-half minute routine.

The audience seemed perplexed, but with the familiar backbeat of "Don't Stop Believing" and Gisele's female lead with the Gaga lyrics, there were astonished glances across the auditorium. It suddenly struck Jesse that this would be his last Vocal Adrenaline performance ever, and his entire heart and soul exploded into the dance as he pushed forward.

_"Just a small town girl  
Living in a lonely world.  
"She took the midnight train going anywhere." _He spun away and continued, flipping a girl whose name he couldn't quite remember over his head. He didn't stop moving, not even breathing when he continued to sing the memorable rock ballad.

_ "Don't stop believing  
Hold on to that feeling!" _For the first time, Jesse understood the connection Rachel felt to New Directions and the Glee club. The song was absolutely unbelievable to perform live. As the dance beat came back, they ended in a stereotypical show pose, with the boys on one knee and girls swung over their legs. The theatre broke out into thunderous applause, and Jesse scanned and searched for any sign of Rachel, but she was gone, if she'd ever been there at all.

They meandered offstage, and although everyone was panting and beaming, by the time they got to the dressing room, Jesse felt a hand on his shoulder and was roughly pushed into the wall.

"The _fuck _happened out there, St. James?" Adam asked, an army of Vocal Adrenaline members behind him. "I swear, if you cost us Nationals," he growled. Jesse put his hands up in defense.

"They were going faster than at rehearsal!" Jesse attempted, but Adam pushed him again.

"Fucking liar!"

"Dude, lay off," Jesse spat, searching the crowd for any sign of Shelby.

"I'm not going to lay off!" Adam retorted. "You fucked it up, asshole," he pushed him once more, and this time, Jesse couldn't take it, and he pushed back. "Oh, that is it," Adam said, making for Jesse, but Gisele caught his arm.

"Not here," she spat. "If Shelby sees, we're all fucked," she explained. Jesse had escaped out of the line of fire and was now on the complete opposite side of the room phone in hand.

"Intervention needed please," he texted Shelby, sliding his phone back into his pocket immediately. The group was still glaring at him, but thankfully, Adam had cooled down. Shelby arrived just a few seconds later looking frightened, but when she saw that he was alone and unscathed, her eyes calmed down.

"Awesome guys!" she said, acting as though she had meant to come to the dressing rooms and give them a pep talk. They mumbled in agreement, and Shelby rolled her eyes. "Look, the last two competitors are from Alaska and Wyoming. I'm pretty sure Alaska hasn't heard modern music for like, twenty years, and Wyoming is just going to do a bunch of country ballads. We've got this in the bag," she tried to get her students pumped up, but her attempts were futile. Finally, she walked over to Jesse and pulled him aside.

"Okay, what happened?" she asked. Her male lead had, not once in his 4 years of performing, ever faltered, so she was assured that this had been something _major _that had caused his stumble. Jesse shook his head.

"You're gonna kill me," he began. Shelby raised an eyebrow.

"Try me."

"I thought I saw your daughter."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'd just like to preface this with the fact that I cried writing this _entire_ chapter. I hope you don't hate me _too_ much for it. Things _will_ get better, I promise, but you've got to have a catalyst somewhere! Read and REview, I don't own anything!

There they were, crowded on the stage, as they had been every year since Jesse could remember. They had forgiven him enough to grasp his hands tightly, and his heart was pounding. He hated this feeling of nerves—it was truly unpleasant. He watched as a bubbling Kristen Chenoweth (the guest judge) bounced across the stage with the results, and Jesse couldn't help but think that she reminded him of that terribly sloppy woman who'd bought the auditorium at McKinley.

"Our third place winners," she began, "From Orlando…"

Jesse was unable to hear the names of the school or club, as an ear-piercing shriek had erupted from his left. A boy and a girl rushed forward, and Jesse could only assume it was the group's leads. The girl threw her arms around Kristen in sheer joy, while the boy held the trophy up for the audience to see. He rushed back to his teammates and they grabbed one another into an intense hug. Jesse found himself smiling, and he received a sharp elbow in the side from Gisele. His face fell, and he regained his stoic composure.

"Second place, from remote Akron, Ohio,"

Once again, Jesse heard nothing else, but only because the auditorium went silent. He was sure he saw Kristen's lips say "Vocal Adrenaline," but his teammates didn't move. They didn't scream; they didn't clap. They just stood there in complete, and utter shock. After what felt like hours, he felt Shelby push him forward, and he and Gisele meandered over to Kristen. He held the trophy up, and was sure the audience was erupting, but as he returned to the group and handed them the trophy, there was no group pose, no excited hugs and squeals. They stood, somber as a funeral procession, and Jesse never found out who placed first.

xxxxxxxxx

The night in the hotel was silent as a grave. There was no party; no people showing up half naked to his door offering him a beer…it was completely unlike any trip to Nationals Jesse had ever participated in. Everything he'd done to Rachel, all that he'd gone through—it had all been for nothing. True enough that the juniors would keep their scholarships because they had at least placed, but Jesse felt useless, undesirable. To make matters worse, Shelby had assured him that Rachel wasn't there, unless she had somehow managed to procure a ticket and had decided it was unimportant to inform her mother. He could have killed himself, and he found it a miracle that his teammates hadn't done it already. This would be the first flight home without a hangover; the first flight home where Cory wouldn't puke in a barf bag and assure the stewardess it was motion sickness when really he was just still drunk from the evening before. It was surreal, really, the feeling of losing. It was something Jesse St. James hadn't experienced before this year…really, before he smashed an egg on Rachel Berry's forehead and realized he was a complete fucking moron. Yet here he was, barely a month later, losing once again. No matter what anyone told him, second place was losing—it wasn't first.

No one spoke to him at breakfast that morning. No one sat next to him on the bus to the airport. Sure enough he was seated between two VA members on the plane, but they ignored him as though his seat were empty, even going so far as to have a conversation over his lap. Jesse put his headphones back on and blocked out the rest of the world, laughing bitterly as Credence Clearwater Revival expressed his melancholia to a T. It was a short flight, and he felt miraculously relieved as he waited for his bag at the carousel and quickly escaped to the Range Rover anxiously awaiting him in the parking lot. He'd barely managed to get his bag in the trunk when he heard an army of footsteps and wheeling baggage behind him. He spun, but not quick enough, and found his face met with Adams fist. He staggered, intense pain searing through his body.

"Little—traitor—son of a bitch!" Adam yelled as he administered punches all over Jesse's body. Although Jesse had believed himself to be well versed in self-defense, he was helpless, as Adam was taller and more built than he was, and was getting in punches whenever he could. "This is all your fucking fault," Adam growled, shoving Jesse into the side of his car.

"What the _hell, _man!" Jesse shrieked, doubled over in pain.

"My turn!" Gisele cried, and Adam held as she punched and scratched. Jesse looked around for someone, _anyone _to help him, but they were in a fairly deserted multi-night parking lot. Jesse was spitting blood, and another boy had stepped forward. His punch was even harder than Adam's, and soon, Jesse found himself on the hard concrete.

"You cost me my record!" the boy yelled, and Jesse was almost positive he could feel his precious nose breaking. He was helpless, and he couldn't even protest, limp on the asphalt.

"What do you think, guys? Should we get St. James home?" Adam laughed, and Jesse felt himself being carried. Everything was going black, but he forced himself to stay alert. He felt himself be pushed in the backseat of a car, his head lolling weakly around. He could see Adam get into the drivers' seat, with Gisele the passenger. She spun around to stare at him, and evil glint in her eye.

"We're going to take you somewhere you belong," she smirked. He was confused, and he couldn't process what was happening. Soon, he watched everything go black.

He wasn't sure how long he was in the car. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. He was starting to come to when he felt his body being moved again. He looked around, attempting to understand where he was, but he simply _couldn't. _But before he could stress his mind too hard, Gisele had an explanation for him.

"Since you love your dear, old, McKinley High School so much, we decided we'd bring you back home and put you where you deserve to be," she said as Adam dragged him across the parking lot. He felt himself lifted one more time, and then he landed on something soft—and really quite foul-smelling. He could hear Gisele and Adam high five, and then heard an engine start and tires screech. Everything hurt, and his face felt warm and wet. He knew he was bleeding, and the scratch on his arm had burst open once more, blood trickling down to his elbow. Groaning, he tried to sit up, but it was useless. Panicked, he struggled for his cell phone, and dialed the only number who was coming to mind through the hazy fog that clouded his brain.

"Hello?" the voice on the other line said tentatively. It was clear she had deleted his number; otherwise he was certain she would have ignored the call.

"Rachel," he said hoarsely, and he couldn't even recognize himself. He heard her take a sharp breath.

"Who is this?" she asked, panicked. He was aware he sounded terribly like some serial killer in a bad horror movie, and he prayed she wouldn't hang up.

"Rachel, it's me. It's Jesse," he breathed, and the line was silent. "Please," he said, before she could hang up, "I really need you. I need help."

"Jesse?" she repeated. "What's going on?" he could hear panic, sheer terror in her voice, and it soothed him a little to know she was actually concerned.

"Rachel, I need you," he repeated, and he could almost hear her nodding.

"Jesse just tell me what's going on," she said. He could hear her rushing through her house, heard something crash and a slight utter of, "Shit!"

"Dumpster," he finally croaked.

"What?" Rachel asked, clearly confused. "Dump her? Jesse what are you talking about?"

"Dump-ster," he enunciated as best he could. "I was thrown in a dumpster."

"Oh," Rachel said with understanding. "Do you know where?"

"Your high school."

xxxxxxxxx

He didn't hear the car doors slam, didn't even know she had arrived, but his eyes fluttered open as he heard soft cries of, "Jess? Jesse!" He tried to speak, but his throat was dry.

"I swear to god, Rachel, if this is some ploy to trick you again, I _will _kill this kid," the voice was awfully familiar, but he was sure it wasn't Finn's.

"You didn't hear him," she said softly. "He sounded like he was already dying," she half-whispered. He heard soft footsteps rushing toward the dumpster, and saw soft, tiny fingers pinch over the edge. "I'm too tiny. I can't see!" she growled. "Jesse?"

He tried once more to speak, but could only manage a soft grunt.

"Jesse!" she said, sounding slightly relieved. "It's okay, Noah and I will get you out of here."

Noah…Noah? Who the hell was—oh right, Puck, the one with the Mohawk—then no Mohawk; the one who'd been given the solos he would have received if he'd stayed. He heard a clamoring of metal, and then was met with the face of a Mohawk-less Noah Puckerman.

"Shit dude, what the hell happened to you?" he asked, jumping into the trash.

"Is it bad, Noah?" Rachel's voice squeaked. Puck's eyes met Jesse's, and Jesse shook his head fervently, paying for it with an eye-splitting headache. Puck made a face, and cleared his throat.

"It's…not…that bad?" he ventured, and he could hear Rachel gasp.

"Get him out!" she squealed.

"Easier said than done," Puck explained. "Okay buddy, c'mon," he said, slinging Jesse's arm over his shoulder. "Rachel, you need to do something really important, okay? Like, I'm really trusting you here," he said, and Jesse looked to him weakly. "I need you to go in the truck and back it over here so that I can put him in the bed," Puck explained.

"There's a bed in your truck?" Rachel asked. Puck closed his eyes.

"Okay _Brittany_," he said, and Rachel scoffed. "That's what the back is called. Just do it, okay, so I can save your precious bo—just do it!" he hissed. Obviously Puck had left his keys in the truck, because there was a rush of footsteps, the rev of an engine, and Jesse could hear him praying softly, "Please don't wreck, please don't wreck, please don't wreck." The engine stopped, and Puck's eyes flew open. "Did you do it?" he asked.

"I think so. There's about a foot between the truck and the dumpster…"

"That's perfect," Puck said, turning to Jesse. "Okay man, listen, I need you to help me, okay? Okay?" he asked, and Jesse nodded weakly. Puck grunted as he lifted Jesse over the edge of the dumpster, and Rachel shrieked at the gruesome sight. "Okay, Rachel, guide him onto the truck bed, okay?" Puck said, standing on his tiptoes and trying not to lose grip of Jesse. When he heard him hit the bed with a soft thud, Puck let go, and jumped out of the dumpster himself. Rachel had already clamored onto the truck bed, and was pushing Jesse's hair out of his face, tears springing to her eyes.

"Seriously dude, what the hell happened to you?" Puck asked once more, opening up what appeared to be an orange toolbox and pulling out a first aid kit and a slightly dirty dishtowel. "Best I've got," he explained, and Rachel smiled appreciatively at Puck, using the towel to wipe the blood off Jesse's face and arm.

"We lost," Jesse laughed bitterly. Puck made a puzzled face, but Rachel gasped.

"Lost?" she breathed.

"Second," he explained. Puck had clamored back out of the truck and opened the door, returning moments later with a bottle of water.

"Drink this, dude. You need it," he poured a bit of the water in Jesse's mouth, and Jesse nodded in appreciation.

"You came in second so they beat you up?" Rachel questioned, mopping up some spilled water with the towel and putting it to Jesse's forehead.

"I messed up," Jesse explained. "I screwed up the lyrics because…I thought…I thought I saw you," he admitted. Rachel and Puck glanced at one another, and neither said anything.

"So they beat you up?" Puck asked again.

"What do you think?" Jesse grimaced, and Rachel squeezed his hand.

"Be nice," she warned.

"Right, sorry," Jesse backtracked. "Yeah. We got off the plane, I was walking to my car, and I was basically ambushed." The memory felt like days, years ago, when really, it had only been merely a few hours.

"And they were just going to leave you here?" Rachel questioned, her tone full of rage.

"Yeah, I guess so. Or I guess they figured I'd call you, but I think they thought you might ignore me," he said thoughtfully, and Rachel blushed.

"I almost did," she admitted. "I thought it was just another prank, like the egg thing," she was bitter, and Jesse was overwhelmed with guilt.

"We have to get him to someone's house," Puck interrupted. "There's not enough in the first aid kit to get him cleaned up, and he needs to be on a bed or at least something cushioned." Puck was quite the expert at injuries—his fight club now had gained more members than ever, and he was the resident medic because he'd taken a class of lifeguard training before being kicked out for having sex with one of the instructors. He had been thirteen—it was a personal record.

"Bring him to mine," Rachel offered. "My dads are out of town, they won't be there to wonder why there's a bleeding kid on our couch."

"Alright. Rachel, stay back here with him," Puck said, jumping down and slamming the door to the bed. Rachel scowled.

"Wait, isn't this illegal?" she asked in a panic. Puck raised an eyebrow at her.

"Desperate times," he shrugged. "Just lay down. No one will notice anything. If you're really that paranoid, I think there's a tarp. "

"I'm not that paranoid," Rachel grumbled, curling down into a fetal position next to Jesse, who laughed silently.


	6. Chapter 6

The drive home was long and winding, and Rachel just barely caught the orange toolbox before it slammed Jesse in the head. When they finally got to Rachel's house, she was _very _glad to be out of the truck, and she hopped down, rummaging in her purse to find the house key.

"Rach, we should take him to a place closer to the bathroom, so he doesn't have to try the steps," Puck suggested, and she nodded.

"Right. Put him on my bed then," she said, holding the door open as Puck fireman carried the bloody young man into the house and carefully up the stairs. Rachel hurried closely behind, then, halfway up the stairs, turned around again and rushed to the kitchen.

Puck set Jesse gingerly on Rachel's carefully made bed, and Jesse felt immediately guilty for bleeding everywhere. Rachel returned with some towels and a cup of ice, while Puck meandered to Rachel's bathroom to find first aid supplies. Rachel began cleaning Jesse off with some _clean _towels, and smiled softly at him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked when they were finally alone. Jesse gave her a look.

"I've been better," he said flatly. Rachel blushed and looked down at her fingers, awkwardly twisting the pink-stained towel in her hands. "But thank you," Jesse licked his cracked lips. Rachel picked up another towel and placed it on his forehead; this one was cool and wet and felt wonderful against his warm skin.

"Alright," Puck said upon return, arms laden with medical supplies. "This shit's gonna sting like a motherfuck, but it'll help," he said, dropping everything on the foot of Rachel's bed. Jesse grimaced.

"Great," he muttered. Rachel watched, wringing her hands as Puck cleaned out the wounds on Jesse's arm, forehead, and knees. Every once in awhile, she and Jesse would make eye contact, and she would look away almost immediately, the fear of all her feelings flooding back overwhelming her. She had been doing so well; _so well. _She had even spoken to her mother without a single thought about him—although that had been more so because she was appalled that Shelby had adopted Beth and neither Shelby, Quinn, or Puck had thought to inform her of this.

"You should be clear to go, man," Puck finally said, standing up. "Don't leave the same bandages on too long," he warned Rachel, shoving his hands in his pockets, "But I've really gotta go. I promised San I'd go to the mall with her at 3 and it's 3:45 now," he shrugged sheepishly.

"What are you going to say you were doing?" Rachel asked, and she had to smile. Noah's phone had been going off constantly for the last hour, and he had ignored it to assure that Jesse returned home safely and his wounds were properly dressed.

"Fight club emergency," he shrugged. Rachel furrowed her brow.

"I thought you couldn't talk about that," she said, and Puck rolled his eyes.

"You're such a loser, Berry," he grinned, and began to show himself to the door. Rachel stood in the doorframe and beamed after Noah.

"Thanks Noah. I really appreciate all this," she called after him.

"No problems," he shouted from the bottom of the stairs. They heard the front door slam, and Rachel turned back to an exhausted Jesse.

"You should get some sleep," she suggested, and Jesse shrugged.

"I don't know, I feel like there's more important things to be discussed right now," he began, but Rachel shook her head.

"Not now," she disagreed, pushing his hair back once more. "You'll have all the time you need, but not now."

Slowly, Jesse's eyes began to close, and the last thing he saw before he drifted off was a smile he knew all too well.

When Jesse awoke, he was nearly sure it was a dream—all of it, from losing at Nationals (Second place was still losing!) to getting the living shit beat out of him, but especially the angel called Rachel Berry taking care of him and nursing him back to life. But when his eyes opened, he came to find it wasn't a dream, much to his both dismay and extreme pleasure. The room was dark, and at first he believed himself to be alone. He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dark; and the crack in the curtains allowed just enough light for him to see that Rachel was curled up on the floor wrapped in blankets. Guilty, Jesse sat up quickly, causing his entire body to ache. He carefully stood up and ambled towards the door, down the hall, and to the bathroom.

When he first saw his reflection, he was horrified. His eyes were bruised and puffy, his cheeks were swollen, he had a split lip and a gash on his forehead; he couldn't even recognize himself. This couldn't be the same person who just the day before had been performing, bright and shining, on a stage in front of thousands. This wasn't Jesse St. James—this was some broken, fucked up version of Jesse St. James, a bad understudy. He washed his face, the gash on his forehead burning as the soap slid down into the wound. He hissed in pain, but fought through it. He looked up, hoping that the soap would have washed it all away, but there it was: the bruises and the swelling. He watched hot tears fall from his eyes and he was furious. He was Jesse fucking St. James; he didn't need to be crying over stupid, useless bullshit. He would just give Shelby a call in the morning and see if she couldn't do something about this situation—and clearly he'd have to miss class in the morning, there was simply no way he could show up like this, despite any amount of makeup Rachel could produce.

He stayed in the bathroom for what felt like hours, staring into the mirror trying to make the bruises disappear. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door and nearly jumped out of his skin. Putting a hand over his heart, he opened the door, wishing Rachel couldn't see his face, but realizing he had no choice.

"Is everything okay Jesse? You've been away for awhile," she informed him. Jesse nodded.

"I was just washing my face," he explained, shutting off the bathroom light and heading back to her room. He hung back and pointed to her bed. "You take it, I'll take the floor," he told her, and Rachel looked at him furiously.

"Are you kidding? Get in that bed, right now," she hissed, and Jesse quickly did as he was told. She sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to get comfortable, and she pushed back his hair. "Do you need anything?"

Jesse wanted more than anything to say, "You," and blame it on the stress of the day, but instead he simply shook his head and rolled over on his (non injured) side. He knew she would sit there and watch until he fell asleep, so after a minute or two he paced his breathing, and after another minute of that, he felt the mattress shift slightly with the loss of her weight, and heard her curl back up on the floor.

"Damnit," he thought. "I should have offered for her to sleep in here _with me._" Jesse sighed and looked over his shoulder to the tiny lump curled up on the floor in a very similar pose to that she'd had in the back of the truck. He smiled slightly as realization hit him. He was in a room with Rachel Berry and she hadn't tried to murder him yet. Maybe it was his fragile condition, but he prayed not. He smiled and could hear the tiniest bit of a snore coming from the girl. He laughed silently and whispered, "I love you," before putting his head back on the pillow and gently falling back to sleep.

When Jesse awoke in the morning, his stomach was absolutely growling and his entire body was stiff. He let out a slight groan of pain and his eyes opened to the bright room, the sunlight reflecting off her yellow walls. He glanced over to her spot, and realized it was empty—of course; it was a Monday, she had school. Technically, he had school as well…he wondered how Gisele and Adam would react when he didn't show. Would they think they'd killed him? He had to laugh, imagining the guilt, but then suddenly, his face fell; they probably wouldn't feel remorse at all, they'd probably be thrilled.

He had just sat up when Rachel came hurrying back in, carrying a tray with eggs, bacon, and toast. She set it on the bed and smiled gently at him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. Jesse's heart was fluttering.

"What time is it?" he asked. Rachel laughed.

"Ten-thirty."

"You're supposed to be in school," Jesse said incredulously. Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"You really thought I'd leave you alone in this state?" She questioned, and nodded to the food. "Eat." Jesse stared after her, a stupid smirk on his face.

"Why haven't you kicked me out yet?" he asked her as he took a piece of buttered toast, and then added, "And why the hell do you have bacon in your house?" Rachel giggled and turned pink.

"I may have made a trip to the grocery for you," she shrugged, and Jesse's heart began to flutter again.

"But I thought it was like, illegal for you guys to even breathe in the same air as bacon?" Jesse questioned, and Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"Exceptions can be made," she shrugged. "And to answer your other question, at this point, you need me," she shrugged. Jesse wanted to nod, but he just smiled.

"Thanks," he said politely, continuing his meal. He looked up to Rachel once again; she was busying herself with something at her desk. "What are you telling them?" She looked up in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"At school. Where are you telling them you are? I highly doubt you want to express to all your friends that you're aiding their mortal enemy," Jesse smirked, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Always with the dramatics, St. James," she giggled. "If they ask, there's been a family emergency. Not a complete, lie, there was an emergency," she shrugged again, turning back to her desk. Jesse continued nibbling on his breakfast as Rachel stood up.

"I need to change your bandages soon. I should have done it last night but I didn't want to wake you, and I forgot about it when you were in the bathroom," she muttered abashedly. Jesse sighed.

"Is it totally necessary? It's going to _hurt," _he whined. Rachel snorted.

"Are you that much of a baby?"

"Right now, yes!" Jesse pouted. Rachel stood to get the antibiotic cream and bandages, and Jesse kept his mouth at full pout. When she spun, he saw Rachel swallow and look away, before focusing her gaze on him sternly.

"Jesse St. James," she began, "Noah Puckerman, resident medical assistant, informed me that I had to change your bandages as often as possible to avoid complications, and I take my duties very seriously," she put a hand on her hip, and Jesse broke down his defense, laughing.

"Fine, you win," he sighed, pushing the tray of food aside. Rachel sat next to him, and Jesse couldn't help thinking back to those War movies he secretly enjoyed where the beautiful nurse takes care of the wounded soldier. Was he the wounded soldier? Jesse rolled his eyes; Rachel was right, he had to stop with the dramatics. He winced slightly as the ointment burned on his bicep and forehead, and Rachel wiped her hands with one of the napkins on Jesse's tray when she was finished.

"Now was that so bad?" she asked, and Jesse put up the pout again. They both began to laugh, and Jesse thought he saw a flicker of pain in Rachel's eyes. She shifted awkwardly, and then made to turn around. "Oh, that reminds me. Shelby's coming."

_"Shelby?" _


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Here's the next chapter! Remember that I don't own anything, and don't forget to review!

Jesse was in a panic. He didn't know what to do; theoretically, he could just stay curled up in Rachel's bed and not speak a word to his former coach and parental figure; but would that mean he was simply letting his teammates win? Rachel had busied herself with cleaning the living room, and he could hear echoes of Barbara softly floating up the stairs, Rachel's cool voice mixing with that of the Broadway legend's. He smiled and sighed, aware that the affections he'd been swarmed with were nothing to be taken lightly. Jesse sighed and winced, a painful stinging on his right side bringing him back to reality and his present dilemma.

Despite his tough exterior, Jesse St. James wasn't a spiteful person. He'd forgiven almost everyone who'd ever done him wrong—except for Ethan Conrad who had won lead male over him in the fifth grade school production of Cinderella so he was forced to play the prince's father and it was just _awful—_so it would be simply awful to explain to Shelby what her students had done. Jesse didn't want to cause too much trouble to be inflicted on them. He knew he should…he should want them to hurt as much as he was, but in a secret, sadistic way, he was thankful. If they hadn't intervened, he never would have had a reason in the world to call Rachel, and perhaps this slight, albeit slow, reunion wouldn't even be happening.

Jesse was still a little weak on his legs, but he managed to make it downstairs within a reasonable amount of time and curl himself up on one end of the couch. Rachel scowled at him from the kitchen door when she saw him surfing channels with the TV remote.

"Jesse St. James, you should be in bed," she scowled, a hand on her hip. He looked at her, bemused, and shrugged one shoulder.

"I needed a change of scenery," he explained, and she crossed her arms.

"Jesse, you have to be careful or else your injuries will just get worse!" Rachel pestered. Jesse put up a hand.

"Rachel, I'm okay. Really. Besides," he began, "I need to explain everything to Shelby. Have you…have you said anything to her?" Jesse asked anxiously, and Rachel shook her head.

"No. I called to ask how Nationals went and then invited her over. I think she expects something's up, seeing as I've already broken our 'we'll only go to lunch' plans, but I'm sure she'll understand once she sees you," Rachel trailed off.

"Rach…" Jesse began, and the brunette snapped her head towards him.

"Rachel," she corrected him with a glare. His stomach knotted.

"Rachel…can I talk to you?"

"About what?" she asked, sitting opposite him on the sofa, and his heart was thundering.

"What happened."

"I know what's happened," Rachel stated matter-of-factly. "You were beat up because you got distracted seeing a girl who looked like me at your performance," she shrugged. "I don't see what else there is to explain," she said, and Jesse's heart sank—she clearly wasn't ready for the conversation he'd been hoping to have.

"Right," he sighed, defeated. "Rachel…thank you. For everything you've done for me," Jesse smiled halfheartedly, and Rachel shrugged, looking away.

"It was the least I could do," she began, but Jesse gave her a look.

"Oh yeah, least you could do after I smashed a fucking egg on your forehead," Jesse hissed, and Rachel shifted uncomfortably. She had been hoping the subject wouldn't come up, at least not so soon. The pair sat awkwardly and turned their attention to the cooking show on the television as they waited for Shelby. They sat, silent, for what felt like hours, before Rachel finally spoke up.

"They make it seem so simple," she began, and Jesse's heart leapt. "I mean it's like, POOF, and you have a gourmet meal! In my dreams," she laughed. Jesse smiled back, his heart sinking further than it had been before. He wished he had the nerve and the gall to sit up and pull her over so she was leaning on his side, but he knew it was far too soon—she was probably still only being nice to him because of his horrendous face. When the doorbell rang, Rachel looked at him encouragingly before rushing up to get it. His heart was pounding; more than it had when he'd heard her voice for the first time in weeks. He overheard the women having a cordial greeting, and Shelby entered the room, Rachel trailing behind in the entryway with Beth.

"I have to admit, Rachel, I was a little surprised when you cal—Jesse?" Shelby stared at him, astonished. He turned slowly to look at her, and she let out a puff of air as she became aware of his injuries. "What the _hell, _Jesse!" she breathed, "I leave you alone in New York for three hours and you manage to get yourself mugged? What the hell good are those boosters, then?" she appeared furious, and Jesse tilted his head, startled. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him, glancing over her shoulder and leaning closer to him, "Although I must say, I'm glad you took my advice and talked to Rachel."

"I didn't get mugged," he hissed, affronted, ignoring her final comment. Shelby sat on an armchair, looking puzzled.

"What the hell happened then?" she questioned as Rachel took her spot on the sofa, cuddling her newborn sort-of sister. Jesse took a deep breath.

"My teammates," he said finally. Shelby looked at him with a vacant expression.

"What?" she asked finally, and Jesse shrugged.

"My teammates," Jesse repeated. "I got off the plane, walked to my car, and they beat the shit out of me," he said. Shelby's mouth had fallen open.

"Wh…why?" she asked, although she was sure she already knew the answer.

"Because we lost," Jesse shrugged. Shelby was seething, but she took a few deep breaths.

"Okay…so where Rachel play into this?" Shelby scowled. Jesse laughed.

"Well after they were done venting their frustrations, Gisele and Adam decided to throw me in the McKinley High dumpster, and she was the first person I could think of to call," Jesse shrugged, and Shelby hid a smile with her hand.

"This is garbage," she said after a moment. "I'm going to get these kids expelled, what they did is disgusting, not to mention illegal." Jesse shook his head.

"Not so close to graduation," he pleaded, and Rachel and Shelby looked at him in disbelief.

"Jesse, they tried to_ kill _you, have you forgotten that?" Rachel asked. Jesse waved his hand.

"I really don't think that was their intention, just rough me up a bit for leaving in the first place, and they figured with the loss of Shelby they might get away with it," he explained. Shelby rolled her eyes.

"Did they not realize that you're like, my golden boy?" she asked, and Jesse snorted.

"No I think that's exactly what they realized. They want to know what we're keeping from them, and they thought maybe I'd crack."

"Oh for the love of god. They're going to be severely disappointed when I explain it was all just about me finding Rachel," Shelby rubbed her forehead. Jesse turned to glance at Rachel and felt a strange jolt of butterflies at seeing her with a baby. He blinked a few times, shaking his head at himself. This was getting out of hand.

"So they expected you to divulge some deep secret," Shelby continued, and Jesse was knocked from his reverie. "And they were mad at you for what happened at Nationals."

"What exactly _did _happen at Nationals?" Rachel questioned, and Jesse's face reddened.

"I…" he began, suddenly aware of his sweaty palms, "I was performing, and…I looked out into the audience…and…I thought you were there."

"In New York?" Rachel asked, shocked. Jesse nodded meekly.

"That's why it was so surprising, I didn't understand…. but by the time I had my bearings, I had missed a few lines and was already late for the chorus," he continued, hanging his head. "They tried to rough me up in the dressing room, but they knew they'd never hear the end from Shelby if they did. I guess they figured that it was okay doing it once we were home because she was no longer attached to the club," Jesse shrugged again. Shelby's nostrils were flared.

"That's what they think. Oh this is just the beginning. Shelby Corcoran _will _be back to coach Vocal Adrenaline; you can count on that. Things will have to be adjusted, but I'll make it work," she said defiantly, and Jesse watched a smile spread across Rachel's face in admiration for her mother.

"What about the ones that are seniors?" Rachel asked, and Shelby frowned.

"Something will be done. I'm not sure what, but justice will be served."

"I feel like I'm living in an episode of Law and Order," Jesse quipped, and both Rachel and Shelby rolled their eyes, a mirror image of one another.

"God, Jesse, your jokes are awful," Shelby laughed, while Rachel pretended to cover Beth's ears.

"Sure, make fun of the kid who's ailing." Shelby perked up at this.

"Right, about that. So Rachel just took care of you then?"

"Well, she and Noah Puckerman…this kid from New Directions," he explained upon seeing Shelby's puzzled reaction, "brought me back here, and Rachel cleaned me up while Puck handled my wounds…I guess he's in some kind of fight club or something."

"And you stayed here last night?" Shelby said, raising an eyebrow. Jesse and Rachel both reddened, and Rachel interrupted with, "I slept on the floor!" Shelby kept her stern face for another few seconds, before breaking into a grin and laughing.

"I'm only teasing you kids, really. C'mon now," she tossed her hair. Rachel was still a tad pink as she stood, handing Beth to her mother.

"Can I get you anything? Either of you?"

"Can I have a water, please?" she asked, and Rachel nodded. Jesse shook his head, but Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Oh hush, you. Your soup is nearly finished, I'm about to go get it," she explained, darting off to the kitchen once more. Shelby looked at Jesse with a humored smile.

"I'm sure you're adoring being waited on hand and foot, right?" she teased, and Jesse folded his arms.

"Its not like I'm asking for it," he protested. "She just…she does all these really nice things for me and I have no idea how to interpret it."

"What do you mean?" Shelby questioned, and Jesse sighed.

"It's like, she made me breakfast and she's taking care of me and she slept on the floor when she easily could have gone to a sofa or even her parents' bed," Jesse rambled, "But I have no idea if she just feels sorry for me or if there might still be something there."

"Jesse, I think there will _always _be something there, for both of you," she added, and Jesse looked up at her. "I think she might be nervous because she's been trying so hard to push you away, but for now, I think everything's fine," she adjusted the sleeping baby in her arms and returned her gaze to the teenager. "Believe me, I know. I've had my share."

As Jesse was about to open his mouth to retort, Rachel returned to the room with a bowl of soup and a glass of water. Handing each off to their respective owners, she sat expectantly on the sofa. Jesse looked at the chicken soup she'd made for him with an appreciative smile. She glanced back, before playing with the sofa pillow for a distraction. He sighed, and continued to eat his soup.

"So…." Rachel began, clearly attempting to avoid any awkward silences, "So you'll return to Vocal Adrenaline?" she asked Shelby, who set her glass on a coaster and nodded.

"I think so. If things like _this," _she nodded in Jesse's direction, "are going to come of me not being there, I feel morally obliged to stay." Rachel nodded and adjusted her position on the sofa.

"But what about Beth?" she questioned, and Shelby sighed.

"It's going to be tough," Shelby admitted, "I'm probably going to have to hire an assistant. But I love both things far too much to give either of them up," she began, and suddenly reddened, glancing at Rachel. Suddenly, she became far more attentive and pulled out her cell phone.

"Jesse, I know this is weird, but…I'm going to need proof," Shelby began, and Jesse tilted his head. "For the authorities, and Principal O'Toole." Jesse shrugged, showing off his battle scars for her cell phone camera as she handed Beth to Rachel once more.

"It's not that I don't want them punished," Jesse explained as she took a picture of a giant, fist shaped bruise on his right side. "It's just that I hate to see anyone's life screwed up, you know?" Rachel gave him a look, while Shelby sighed.

"I know, but Jesse, _look _at you," she argued. "To know that my students did that, and I could have prevented it—"

"You couldn't have prevented it," Jesse countered. "It wasn't your fault that I messed up—"

"It was mine," Rachel ventured, and Jesse nearly growled.

"NO. It was no one's fault but my own. These things just _happen, _okay? Even nearly perfect performers make errors." The words echoed in his mind—Jesse had never once in his life admitted that he was possible of making mistakes. The corners of Shelby's mouth were turned upward, and Rachel simply looked stunned. He cleared his throat and went on. "I agree that something needs to come of the kids who attacked me, but I also don't want to see their lives fall apart because of a greed for winning," he concluded. He remembered his first few years of Vocal Adrenaline, when Hazing had been just another normal part of the experience. Looking back, he felt terribly guilty for making a freshman member sneak into McKinley high the prior year and steal Sandy Ryerson's favorite stool…he'd heard rumors the teacher had cried for three weeks. It wasn't fun being abused; maybe Gisele liked the control, but he couldn't handle it. Shelby cleared her throat.

"Well regardless, I need to go discuss everything with Bob—Principle O'Toole. Whether they face punishment or not, he needs to know what's happened, and he also needs to be aware that I will no longer be leaving my position," Shelby began to stand, and Rachel frowned.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner later?" she asked hopefully. Shelby smiled politely at her daughter and declined.

"I would, but this needs to be dealt with," she reasoned. Rachel nodded, slightly dejected, and began to walk Shelby and Beth to the front door. Shelby turned to Jesse just as she passed him. "Feel better, Jesse," she smiled. He watched her head for the door, and turned back, sighing.

"This is going to turn into such an ordeal."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters so far. I love writing for Puck, he makes me laugh. I don't own Glee or Breakfast at Tiffany's, I only own the story. Read and Review please!

Jesse and Rachel became lost in the hours flipping channels. They had caught the tail end of a bad Ben Affleck movie, then an hour of Oprah, and they were now watching some trashy MtV shows about pregnant teenagers. Rachel was scoffing at the personalities of some of the girls, and Jesse was laughing at how absurd some of the situations were. Before they knew it, there was a loud engine in the driveway. Jesse felt himself panicking—what would her dads say? He hadn't even asked when they were coming home—but Rachel's face was calm, and they both heard the door opening.

"Hey, yo, Rachel," Puck called, slamming the front door. "You skipped today, it was weird. Oh hey St. James, how you feel dude?" he asked, sitting down on the couch between them. Rachel rolled her eyes as he kicked his shoes off and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Alright, alright," Jesse replied, bumping fists with Puck. "Do you do this often, just walk in the house?" he asked, remotely surprised, and Puck laughed.

"Yes, he does," Rachel scowled bitterly. "I'll get you a pop," she rolled her eyes, walking towards the kitchen.

"Thanks babe," he grinned, and turned to Jesse. "To be honest with you, I'm still a little weirded out by this whole friendship with Rachel Berry thing," he shrugged. "I mean after all the times I've tried to lay her I'd figure she'd hate me, but she seems to think we have this like, bond because we're Jewish or whatever. She always says it's "platonic," whatever that means. Is that like a fancy word for lesbian?" he asked, and Jesse laughed, shaking his head.

"It's a fancy word for "just friends,"" Jesse informed him, and Puck's face fell.

"Oh man, that blows. Puckasaurus is _not _a just friends kinda guy, you know what I'm sayin'?" Puck asked, and Jesse laughed. He'd never spent a lot of time with the kid because he had been furious that Rachel had cast him as one of her boyfriends, and when he wasn't angry about that, Puck had always been distracted with his baby drama, but Jesse had to admit the kid was pretty cool. "Well let me tell you something," Puck continued. "If you end up being the one to lay Rachel Berry, you are going to be the envy of several guys at McKinley High," Puck said, "myself included." Jesse frowned, and for a moment, his distaste had returned.

"You like her?" he questioned nervously.

"You don't have to _like _a girl to want to nail her, I mean really. She's got a smokin' little bod, so I wouldn't mind, but I'm not sayin' I wanna tie the knot or anything…that spot's reserved, I'm just waiting for the girl to get her act together," Puck explained, and Jesse raised an eyebrow, slightly relieved. He couldn't imagine having sex with other women while his heart was invested to someone else. True enough that he'd had his fair share of hookups, but none of them were heartless—he'd been somewhat connected with each of them. "What about you?" Puck asked, nodding towards the kitchen.

"I…yeah," he admitted. Puck gave him a surprised look,

"Even after all the shit you put her through?" he asked, and Jesse gave him a mirrored look in return.

"I'm pretty sure this is coming from the guy who put his baby's mother through hell and back," Jesse said sarcastically, and Puck snorted.

"Man, if you didn't have two black eyes already, I'd sock you one," Puck said, laughing. "You ain't half bad, St. James," Puck deduced. Jesse snorted, and Rachel returned, setting a glass on the table and sitting in an armchair.

"Having fun?" she asked, and Jesse and Puck glanced at one another.

"Just a little. Having a bro-talk with Jesse here" Puck nodded to the boy on the couch, as though he had to remind Rachel he was still here. "So what's for dinner?" he asked, stretching out, and Rachel looked at him, shaking her head slightly.

"You are absurd," she began, and adjusted her sweater. There was a moment of silence, and Rachel finally muttered, "Chinese?"

Forty-five minutes later, Jesse, Rachel, and Puck sat on the sofa and armchair (Jesse slightly miffed that Puck didn't get the hint to let him sit next to Rachel) eating Sweet & Sour Chicken, Veggie Lo Mein, and Moo Shoo Pork, respectively.

"I never said I was a _good _Jew," Puck had explained when placing his order.

Puck and Rachel using chopsticks with ease, but Jesse had quickly ditched the twigs and picked up a plastic fork from the brown bag. Rachel laughed at him.

"You really can't use chopsticks?" she asked, and Jesse scowled.

"I don't have a lot of finger dexterity," he explained, and Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"You play the piano. Argument invalid," she turned back to her lo mein, and Jesse smiled into his rice.

"Hey Rachel, how many channels do you get?" Puck asked, searching the remote.

"We get a fair fe—NOAH! WE ARE NOT WATCHING PORNOGRAPHIC MOVIES DURING DINNER!" Rachel looked up and shrieked, seizing the remote.

"Aw c'mon, it's Dog the Booty Hunter!" Puck protested, while Jesse just laughed into his glass of soda.

"You are disgusting," Rachel hissed. Puck caught Jesse's eye and winked, and Jesse laughed—he'd heard good things about Dog the Booty Hunter. "Ooh, Breakfast at Tiffany's is on tonight!" Rachel cooed. Puck swallowed his mouthful of Chinese food and looked at her.

"Wasn't that a song?" he asked, and promptly, Jesse responded.

"Deep Blue Something, it references the movie," he explained. Puck smirked.

"Wow, St. James, stumped on music for once?" he asked, and Jesse shook his head, raising an eyebrow.

"No?" he asked, and was struck with realization. "Oh, the band. Deep Blue Something, that's the name," he added, laughing. Puck scowled, defeated.

"Are you comin' to school tomorrow?" Puck asked Rachel as she finally stopped on Wheel of Fortune. She eyed Jesse and shrugged.

"We'll have to see," she said flatly. "My dad's won't be home for another day, so…" she trailed off. Jesse scowled.

"Rachel, I can go home, it's fine," he said, but Rachel shook her head fervently.

"No, no! It's not a problem, and you're not ready yet," she protested. Jesse scowled, and Rachel turned back to Puck. "Either way, do you think you could come by tomorrow evening and take Jesse to get his car?" she asked, and Puck nodded.

"Anytime," he winked, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Noah, really. _When_ are you going to figure out that doesn't work on me?" she complained, and Jesse had to surpress a laugh. "BAKED POTATO CHIP ON MY SHOULDER!" Rachel shrieked suddenly, startling the two boys. "Sorry," she added, reddening and motioning to the television.

"Finn was worried about you today," Puck interrupted. Rachel nearly choked on a noodle.

"What? What did you tell him?" she asked, panicked. Jesse's eyes shifted uncomfortably from Rachel to Puck, awaiting his response.

"He just thought it was unlike you to miss school. Took all I had to convince him you were fine."

"And you didn't think to mention this earlier?" Rachel hissed. Puck shrugged his shoulders.

"I didn't think it was a big deal, I mean, you're not still hot for him, so…"

"That's not the point, Noah," Rachel grimaced.

"Oh whatever, it'll all blow over." Jesse furrowed his eyebrows.

"What exactly will all blow over?" he asked cautiously. Rachel reddened again, but Puck perked up.

"Rachel didn't tell you? She damn near pulverized Finn's heart last week."

"Pulverized is a strong word," Rachel countered.

"Rachel, you went out to dinner with him and when he asked to be a real couple you told him no. Believe me, everyone saw it, Jacob Ben Israel posted it on youtube."

"I still think that can be considered stalking," Rachel attempted forcefully to change the subject, but to no avail. "It was just too soon," she said finally, and Puck shrugged.

"Whatever, I think monogamy is for suckers. I've totally converted to polygamy." Rachel looked at him, stunned.

"Where did you even learn those words?"

"There's this awesome show on HBO called 'Big Love….'"

After Rachel had cleaned up their dinner mess and changed Jesse's bandages once more despite his protests, she grabbed a hot pink fleece from a drawer and curled up on her armchair.

"Who's ready for Breakfast at Tiffany's?" she beamed. Puck stood quickly.

"And with that, I make my exit. Thanks for dinner, Rachel. St. James, hope the wounds heal soon, dude. I'll see you both tomorrow at some point." He grabbed his keys from the coffee table and pulled on his shoes as he walked; Rachel didn't even bother to stand and walk him to the door. They heard a slam, and finally, they were alone once more.

"When I was little, I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother. Now I'm regretting that statement," Rachel was shaking her head. "I love Audrey Hepburn, don't you?" she gushed, changing the subject. "This is probably my favorite movie that she's in, although Roman Holiday is a close second. I just love this one because of the whole aspect of a man living a lie and realizing everything needs to change because of meeting a girl, but he realizes that she's different around him then the personality she shows everyone else, you know?" she looked to him, oblivious, and Jesse had to laugh. Rachel squealed in delight as the movie began, pulling her blanket up around her.

Rachel was asleep by the time Sally Tomato came into the picture, and Jesse watched the rest of the film in silence, contemplating. It was minutes from the end; Paul and Holly were sitting in a cab and a heartbroken Paul had had enough. Jesse had been drifting off himself, but he came to as he listened to Paul patronizing Audrey Hepburn. His head snapped up, and he felt his heart aching.

"_You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."_

Jesse could feel a lump rising in his throat. Dispite all the talks he'd had with Shelby, even his little chat with Puck earlier, nothing had struck him and made him see clearly quite as that line. A line from a movie had caused him to understand—he'd been running from love so long because he feared caring about anyone would keep him trapped and he felt he deserved so much more—deserved to be successful. Looking over at the peaceful brunette wrapped in a pink blanket he smiled to himself. After everything he'd done, after the douchebag he'd been, she had come to his aide as though nothing had changed. Jesse had to wonder how out of line he would be asking to be with her once again—she had already admitted she hadn't been ready to be with Finn, that could only mean her heart still remained with Jesse, couldn't it?

Jesse wasn't sure how long it had been before he'd drifted off. He was almost positive "Moon River" had still been playing in the background, but it was quite possible he had imported the song into his dreams. He was woken by the bright morning sunshine and he stirred, his body stiff from sleeping on the sofa. He glanced over to the armchair and noticed Rachel was gone. Furrowing his eyebrow, he stood and walked up to her bedroom. The door was open a crack, and he peeked in—she wasn't there either, and her bed was perfectly made. He felt slightly disappointed and couldn't quite understand why; she had no reason to stay with him another day, it made perfect sense that she attend school.

Without warning, however, her bathroom door swung open and Rachel stepped out. With a shriek, she clung her towel closer to her, and Jesse turned immediately red.

"Right, you're here!" he stammered. "I, uh…I was just…I was going to shower myself, I didn't know you were here. Right. I'll use the main bathroom. Okay. See you then," he walked out of her bedroom, mortified, and leaned against the wall once he heard the door click shut. "I am so stupid," he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes. He remained there for a few moments before finally making his way to the large, blue bathroom to the right of the stairs, letting the hot water sting his injuries and wash away his embarrassment.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'm sorry. I didn't WANT to make Finn a douchebag...I tried my best to compromise, lol. I think this might be my favorite chapter so far, but who knows what might happen in the future! Read and Review please!

* * *

When Jesse finished his shower and finally gathered the courage to face Rachel, he made his way to the kitchen where he found her making eggs. His ears turned slightly red and he felt the familiar pang of guilt before he sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"You really don't have to keep being so selfless," he said, and she looked over to him, clearly torn between still being offended for his rude intrusion earlier and confusion. Jesse nodded to the stove. "You keep cooking things you wouldn't normally even dream of looking at for me."

"It's not just for you," she said quickly, and Jesse looked away. "I mean, you need your strength, so…" she trailed off. Jesse picked up a banana and began playing with it.

"Well you still skipped school again today."

"I figured it was impertinent for you to be staying in my house without anyone here," she shrugged. "Speaking of which…Jesse…aren't your parents going to wonder where—"

"They left for Prague last week," he interrupted, and she nodded to him with understanding, and then knotted her eyebrows.

"Isn't your graduation next week?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Your parents are skipping out on your High School graduation?" Rachel asked, shocked. Jesse shrugged.

"It's not that big a deal," he lied. Rachel scowled but said nothing, and turned her attention back to the eggs. Jesse followed her glance. "I'm so sorry for that," he added, and Rachel turned to him once more, perplexed.

"What? It's not my fault your parents are skipping your graduation."

"No, not that," Jesse rolled his eyes and stood, walking to where Rachel was cooking the scrambled eggs. "For that," he pointed to the stove.

"It's really not a big deal, I do it for my dads all the—oh," Rachel's face fell as she understood.

"I was a douche," he said, and Rachel suppressed a smile.

"That's one of the nicer things I called you," she admitted. Jesse smiled back.

"I deserved that," he grinned, and Rachel nodded.

"Yeah you did," she giggled. There was a pause as they stared at one another, beaming, and the next ten seconds passed by in slow motion.

Jesse watched her hand reach for the Styrofoam carton, he could hear the wheels in her head turning, and before he even had a chance, the egg was down on his curls and slopping down the side of his face. Rachel was giggling uncontrollably, backing away. Jesse looked at her with wide, playful eyes. He looked around for ammunition of his own, and his eyes fell on a bowl of dry pancake mix. He grabbed a handful and threw it towards her, the front of her blue striped sweater turning white.

"I just showered!" she shrieked, and Jesse laughed.

"So did I!" he defended himself from another egg, but Rachel's other hand snuck to a bottle of syrup. She squeezed, and Jesse found himself with a sticky mess on his own black tee.

"What are you trying to do, turn me into a buffet?" he asked. He reached for the bowl, but Rachel was too quick for him. She shrieked as he dove for her, but she had the entire metal bowl in her hands, looking threatening. Jesse braced himself as he felt the flour-like mixture fall down over his hair and shoulders, and coughing a little, he opened his eyes, sure he looked like a misshapen ghost. Rachel clutched her sides in fits of laughter, and Jesse narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, funny, am I?" he asked, wrapping his now-doughy arms around her. She squealed, and tried to pull away. "I'll show you funny," he growled, teasing, and wiped an egg-honey-flour-covered hand through her long brown hair.

"Jesse!" Rachel giggled. "You're making a mess!"

"Oh _I _made the mess, hmm?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She turned to look at him, biting her lip, and Jesse scowled as a bit of eggshell fell from his hair. They looked at one another for about three seconds before bursting into hysterics again, and Rachel ran her hands through his sticky curls, trying to remove any other hint off eggshell. Jesse pulled a few sticky strands of hair from Rachel's cheek, and they looked at each other for what felt like decades.

"What the _hell?_"

They both turned, startled, to the kitchen doorway where a furious Finn Hudson stood. Rachel's hands fell immediately.

"Finn!" she gasped, attempting to brush off the flour, as though it were possible to hide it. "What…what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?" she asked, attempting to be innocent. Finn narrowed his eyes.

"I could ask you the same question," he glowered. Rachel swallowed and approached him.

"Finn," she began, but he pulled away.

"No, Rachel. I went to your locker and you weren't there again, so I was worried, so I snuck out the doors near the locker room, but obviously you're just having a cute little day with your asshole boyfriend," he sneered. Jesse stepped forward menacingly, but Rachel swatted him away.

"Jesse, stop. Finn, I was taking care of him—"

"Oh I bet you were," Finn hissed. Rachel rolled her eyes, and Jesse realized Finn couldn't see the bruises through the layer of flour. "Rachel, how could you do this to me? To us? To the club?"

"Finn, there's nothing going on! If you'd just let me explain—"

"So is this the reason you broke my heart?"

_"Finn!" _Rachel shrieked, causing both the boys to jump. "Jesse got beat up by Vocal Adrenaline because they lost at Nationals," she began to explain. "They left him in the dumpster at school without help, and he called me to take care of him. That's where I've been the past two days. If you don't believe me, ask Noah." Rachel crossed her arms, and Finn rolled his eyes.

"I don't get you Rachel! After everything he's done, you still thought it was okay to help him?"

"Yes Finn, I did," Rachel snapped.

"This is stupid, you're stupid!" Finn yelled, and Jesse stepped forward once more.

"Back _off, _Hudson," he growled, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Will you both just stop?"

"No," Finn and Jesse said simultaneously, sneering at one another.

"Look Finn," Jesse began, "This doesn't concern you. Rachel helped me when I needed her the most, and I'm going to be eternally grateful to her. So why don't you just leave now?" Jesse was trying his best to be polite, but it was futile.

"Hmm, how about no, asshole?" Finn smirked, and Jesse flared his nostrils. Rachel turned to Finn.

"Finn I think you should go now," she said, and Finn ignored her. Jesse let out a heavy breath.

"Hey douchebag, Rachel asked you to leave," he said to the burly teen. Finn lunged forward just as Rachel stepped in between the two, and although he tried to stop, the sheer momentum of the boy's weight caused his arm to graze the side of her cheek. Finn blundered, horrified, as he watched the girl raise an arm to her face, and without another word, he spun and rushed out of the house. Jesse had half a mind to chase him down the street and pummel him, but he was aware that in his current state, it wasn't the best of ideas. Jesse instantly turned to Rachel, who was clearly fighting back tears.

"Rach," he said, pulling her to the stool. "Rachel let me see your cheek," he said softly. She shook her head fervently, and he gently pulled her hand away. It was red, and he could see the makings of a slight bruise, as well as some swelling.

"He didn't mean to," she said finally, and Jesse wasn't sure if she was stating it as a fact or trying to assure herself.

"I know," Jesse agreed softly. He pushed a cake-y piece of hair behind her ear and used a wet dishtowel to clean some of the flour off her face.

"He tried to hit you," she said finally. "We explained that you were beat up, and he still tried to hit you," she was incredulous.

"He's an idiot," Jesse said simply. "You should go get yourself cleaned up," he said, throwing the towel in the sink. "Then I'll get this cleaned up," he nodded to the kitchen.

_"We'll_ get it cleaned up," she amended. Jesse nodded to her, and the pair made their way upstairs to take their second shower in less than three hours.

* * *

He was already naked and in the shower by the time he realized that he didn't have any alternate clothes to wear. Grumbling, he wrapped a towel around his waist and ambled down the hall, knocking softly on Rachel's doorframe.

"Come in!" she called. She was dressed, but her hair was in a ponytail, a look he wasn't used to. He felt suddenly self-conscious in his nearly –naked form, and looked at her sheepishly.

"Hey, uh, do you have anything I could wear?" he asked, bashful, and Rachel reddened immediately upon seeing his nude torso.

"Oh!" she stood, rushing past him towards her dads' room. She searched through drawers until she finally found a pair of running shorts and a plain white undershirt. She held them out apologetically, and he took them with one hand, holding the towel in place with the other.

"Thanks, they'll work perfectly," he said.

"Just give me your laundry, I'll throw it in with mine," Rachel said, doing her best to avoid looking at him. Jesse grinned devilishly.

"Alright," he said, setting his clean clothes atop of the toilet and picking up his dirty pile, handing it to Rachel. She was refusing to look him in the eyes, and Jesse had to smirk. Quickly throwing on the clothes, he rushed down to where he believed the laundry was, and sure enough, there was Rachel hovered over the washer, measuring soap.

"Need a hand?" he asked, and Rachel jumped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Jesse said, leaning against the large sink. His eyes lingered on the small bruise Rachel now sported, and she turned away, embarrassed. Taking a deep breath, Jesse stepped towards her. "Rachel," he began, reaching to touch her cheek. She tried to shy away, but she froze as his fingertips brushed the slight bump.

"Don't," she began, and Jesse retracted, fearful. "It's not your fault," she said, surprising him. Jesse looked away, heavy.

"I always end up causing you to get hurt," he growled quietly, hoping she couldn't hear.

"That's not true," Rachel interrupted. "It's my fault you were beat up…nearly twice," she added.

"Rachel, how many times do I have to tell you that my distraction wasn't your fault?" Jesse asked. Rachel crossed her arms.

"Fine, if it's not my fault you were beat up, it's not your fault I was," she said crossly. Jesse opened his mouth to argue, but was met with a stern look from Rachel.

"Fine," he accepted in defeat. Rachel nodded.

"Good. Now come on, we've got a kitchen to clean."

Jesse followed her to the kitchen, where she handed him a sponge and a bucket, while she took a mop and began to scrub the floor. Jesse worked on some of the walls and counters. Rachel flicked the switch on a little radio on the counter, and they listened to oldies as they worked.

"I feel like Cinderella," Jesse complained after a bit, and Rachel giggled.

"Okay princess," she teased, and Jesse splashed her with a bit of water. "Ew, Jesse!" she squealed. "This is gross, and I don't want to do this again!"

"Fine," he laughed, looking around to take in the work they'd done. "I think it looks pretty good," he said, and Rachel nodded.

"Yeah, most of it landed on us, thankfully." She walked towards the sink to ring out the mop, but she slipped on the wet tile. Instinctively, Jesse reached to catch her, but he too was in quite a puddle himself. They both went down, with Rachel sprawled on top of Jesse. They began laughing, neither bothering to attempt getting up. After their giggles had subsided, they locked eyes, and Jesse was sure he heard Rachel take a quick gasp. He was unsure, however, because without thinking, he'd reached up to kiss her. There was a moment of surprise on Rachel's end, but after the initial surprise wore off, she kissed him back.

"Jesse," Rachel said, finally breaking it off. He looked to her, blissful. "I…"

"It's okay," Jesse replied, his heart pounding. "Rachel I—"

"Jesse wait," Rachel said, sitting up and leaning against the lower cabinets. Jesse did the same, fearful. "There's something I need to say first." She took a deep breath and began. "When you…when you did what you did, I was furious with you. I hated you; I couldn't understand why you would play me for such a fool and break my heart, especially when you told me you loved me. And then we went to Regionals and you won, and as I watched you hold the trophy over your head, I understood." Jesse guiltily looked at her, and she shrugged. "You chose success and fame over me, and to be honest…I probably would have done the same thing," she admitted. Jesse looked at her for a moment, and she continued. . "If my teammates had come to me and said, "Rachel, listen, we can guarantee a win at Regionals if you just dump that loser St. James," I probably wouldn't have thought twice," Rachel sniffed, Jesse watched her carefully, praying she wouldn't start to cry; he didn't know if he could handle that.

"Rachel, I am so sorry," Jesse bit his lip, and she looked to him.

"But is it enough?" she asked rhetorically. Jesse opened his mouth to attempt answering, but he closed it quickly. "I've been practicing this speech since the day you left, but it's so much harder to say to you and not my mirror," Rachel admitted, laughing sardonically.

"Rachel," he began, swallowing hard. His heart was in his throat, and his mouth felt dry. "Rachel let me say something." Jesse took a deep breath and plunged. "I lied to you, when I egged you. It wasn't that I loved you," he said, and he felt Rachel take a shuddered breath. He looked up to her, panicked. "Oh no that wasn't what I meant! I mean I _love _you. I still do. I hate myself for what I did, Rachel. I thought it was what I wanted and I hated you so much for making me question everything that I'd been so sure of _my entire life_. But all I know right now is that I have never been so thankful to have been beaten up."

Rachel was looking at him, biting her lip. She wanted so badly to forgive him, forget that the past month had happened and live happily forever after, but there was a piece of her that couldn't do it.

"Jesse," she started, "Jesse would you have come back to me even if you hadn't been beaten up?" Jesse looked to her.

"I wanted to," he said finally, and she squinted, fighting back tears.

"But you wouldn't have," she said finally, and Jesse reached towards her.

"Rachel, you don't know that," he said. "I wanted to; I used to tell Shelby almost every day how guilty I felt. She knows about the…the egging," he said finally, and Rachel's head snapped up.

"What?"

"I told her. So I think now between that and my beating, she's going to be the most brutal vocal coach on the East coast." Rachel giggled through her tears, and looked into Jesse's eyes.

"You broke my heart," she finally squeaked, cracking. "I loved you, and you broke my heart." Jesse felt helpless as he watched the girl attempt to wipe her tears, but they were falling faster than she could brush them away. "You broke my heart," she repeated meekly, and Jesse searched for something, anything he could say. He'd barely got her name out before her phone began to ring. She cleared her throat and gathered herself, then looked to him.

"It's Shelby," she told him, then flipped the phone open anxiously. "Hello?" Jesse sat awkwardly, leaning on the cabinets, as he watched Rachel pace back and forth with a scowl. "Well that's absolutely ridiculous, can't they see that there's obviously been injuries sustained? Doctored photos? You've got to be joking." Immediately Jesse comprehended and was swarmed with fury. Clearly someone didn't believe his story. "Well he'll be in school tomorrow, won't that be proof enough? Oh it could be makeup my a—sorry," Rachel was pink. "Anyway, what can we do? Mmhmm. Oh that's ridiculous. Yeah. Yeah I'll tell him. Mmmhmm. Bye Shelby," Rachel snapped the phone shut. "Your principle doesn't believe you."

"What?" Jesse asked, furious. "How can he not believe me, how can he not believe _Shelby?"_

"He's suspicious that _she's _punishing her students for losing," Rachel grimaced, and Jesse's nostrils flared. "They say that until they see you up close and personal there's nothing they can do."

"That's _bullshit," _Jesse shouted. Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you didn't want them punished," she teased. Jesse scowled.

"Yeah but I don't want people thinking that I'm lying or Shelby's being a bitch," he argued flatly. It was clear to both that the earlier conversation lay forgotten in the dust, and neither knew when—if ever—it would be resolved

"You don't think they'll believe Vocal Adrenaline do you?" Rachel asked, and Jesse knotted his eyebrows.

"I wouldn't think so…I mean I have real injuries for crying out loud," he sighed. "I should have known Principle Toolbag would live up to his name," Jesse grumbled. Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"Well if it comes to this, how willing are you to lie?"

"What?" Jesse asked, confused.

"My dad's best friend works for the ACLU…we could say you're gay and it was a hate crime—"

"Rachel, I am not pretending to be gay. That is the _last _thing I need people to think, and besides, I don't want to go to _court._"

"Alright, alright. It was just a thought," Rachel trailed off sheepishly, and Jesse snorted.

"But couldn't you be just a _little_ bit gay?"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry this is a really long chapter, but it didn't feel right splitting it up. Read and Review, please!

* * *

Jesse and Rachel heard a screech in the driveway at 3:30. There was a slamming of doors, and Puck hurried through the front door, looking furious.

"Rachel!" he practically shouted. "How's your face? Finn told me—I punched him in the gut for you," Puck added. Rachel's jaw dropped, and he shrugged. "He deserved it," Puck shrugged, and Jesse had to give him a high five.

"I always knew I liked you," Jesse smirked, and Puck laughed.

"Noah, you hit him?" Rachel asked, looking frightened. Puck shrugged.

"He hit _you_," Puck explained, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Unintentionally!"

"Doesn't matter. He deserved it anyway," Puck looked nonchalant. "Anyway, you missed it today, HUGE fight between Tina and Artie in the hallway. Everyone saw," Puck began, excited. "She got all mad because he didn't want to go to Kurt's party on Friday—"

"Kurt's having a party?"

"Yeah?"

"I wasn't invited," Rachel pouted, and Puck shrugged.

"Whatever, you can come with me," Puck waved his hand. "Anyway, yeah, Artie didn't want to go and she flipped out saying that he never does anything fun and she's tired of sitting at home watching "Miracle in Lane 2," whatever that is."

"Wasn't that a Disney movie?" Jesse interjected, and Rachel's eyes widened.

"Oh yeah, with Frankie Munez!"

"_Anyway_," Puck continued irritably, "Tina said she'd had it, and they broke up."

"They broke up?" Rachel asked horrified. "That's not possible!"

"Well it happened," Puck said defensively. "Wheels looked a damn mess afterwards, I felt sorta bad."

"Noah, his name is Artie. You can't call him wheels, it's rude!"

"He doesn't mind," Puck shrugged. Rachel huffed indignantly. "So, uh, listen. I hate to do this to you but Santana wants to…uh…hang out tonight, so I kinda need to take St. James to get his car like…now-ish," Puck looked genuinely apologetic, and Rachel blushed.

"Of course. Let me go get your clothes out of the dryer," Rachel turned to Jesse, and Puck smirked.

"Hey now, what are you doing with his clothes?"

"Oh shut up," Rachel spat, and dashed off towards the laundry. Jesse shuffled nervously.

"I'm really sorry, man," Puck said, and Jesse looked to him, perplexed. "I mean, I know you wanna spend more time with her, but you know how it is—the ladies don't like to be kept waiting," he grinned, and Jesse laughed softly, nodding.

"Yeah, it's cool," Jesse lied. "I mean I should probably be getting home anyway, I have to face school in the morning—would you believe they think I'm lying?"

"What?" Puck's head snapped to look at Jesse. "That's bullshit!"

"I know."

"Here Jesse," Rachel said as she returned to the room, Jesse's clothes neatly folded. She handed them to him and their fingers brushed, and Rachel immediately reddened once more. "So, uh, good luck tomorrow," she began, just as Jesse said, "Thank you for everything." They laughed awkwardly, and Rachel nodded.

"You're welcome," she shrugged. "Hope your graduation goes well," she smiled, and Jesse's heart fell—she had no plans of seeing him again.

"Thanks," he grinned halfheartedly.

"I'll be in the truck," Puck said, heading for the door. "Take your time," he added softly," and Jesse smiled gratefully to the teen. Jesse turned back to Rachel. She was smiling, the bruise on her cheek overshadowed by the sparkle in her eye.

"I mean it, Rachel. Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't…"

"Really, Jesse. It was nothing," she bit her lip. "I…"

"Yes?"

"I…I hope everything goes well for you," she looked away from him. Jesse's stomach knotted.

"Oh…yeah. Thanks." He licked his lips. "Rachel, I…"

"Yes?" her head snapped up.

"I…I wanted to wish you good luck. You know, with Glee next year." Rachel looked crestfallen.

"Oh…thanks," she looked away again. Jesse swallowed.

"I should…go. Puck's waiting," he nodded to the window. Rachel nodded.

"Yeah. Bye Jesse," she said heavily, and Jesse sighed.

"Bye Rachel," he waved awkwardly before turning to the door and making his exit. Puck was leaning on the driver's side door, and he looked to Jesse expectantly.

"Well?" he asked excitedly as they jumped into the truck. Jesse simply shrugged.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, man, but nothing happened," he admitted. Puck's face fell.

"Aw damn, c'mon man. You should have done _something," _he pouted. Jesse shrugged.

"I don't know man. She just…I don't know what to think. She doesn't trust me, and I can understand why," he sighed, looking out the window as they backed out of the driveway. "You know where Akron Regional Airport is right?"

They had barely made it out of Lima when Jesse pulled out his cell phone. He toyed with the idea of texting Rachel, but what would he say? Puck glanced over and watched Jesse running his fingers over the cell phone, and he turned down the metal station he'd had blaring from the radio.

"You should do it," he said, and Jesse frowned.

"Do what?"

"Tell her how you feel," Puck explained, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Jesse huffed.

"Well I kinda did, and like I said, she doesn't trust me," he looked back out the window.

"Well at least tell her the truth. You owe her that much," Puck warned, cutting off a little old lady in a gold Sedan. Jesse bit his lip once more, running words through his mind. After a moment, he began to text, deleting more than he was typing. Finally, he read over his text, satisfied.

_Rachel, listen. I know you think you can't trust me and you have no reason to, but let me say something. I got lost when I met you. I was so sure of everything I'd wanted and you made me reconsider everything. I blamed you for my faltering and I didn't understand. And I know you think you have to be strong and let this go but I don't want you to. But I guess if I love you I should let you move on, and I do. I love you, Rachel Berry._

Jesse read the text at least twelve times, but he couldn't bring himself to press send. Instead, he saved the message as a draft and snapped his phone shut, holding it up to his lips.

As he thanked Puck once more and slammed the door to the truck shut, it was strange for Jesse to stand in the very place where he'd been attacked. It was even stranger for him to see, upon closer inspection of the concrete, darker spots where he was sure his blood had splattered. Shuddering, he wiped the thought from his mind, and realized it was a damn miracle his car was even still there—it had been unlocked the entire time. Sliding into the driver's seat, it was a strange sensation to be driving; it was a strange sensation to be doing anything that didn't involve Rachel. He closed his eyes and sighed—he _had _to push her from his mind, because having her there wasn't doing him any good. The long drive home with the windows down and the radio blasting helped slightly—granted, Bruce Springsteen made _any _situation better. He considered stopping to bother Shelby but decided against it; he was sure she was tired of him by now, and he couldn't continue asking for advice about her own daughter.

Jesse finally pulled into his driveway two hours later, and the large, empty house filled him with extreme loneliness. Rachel had secretly hit a nerve when she'd mentioned his parents skipping his graduation, but he could never let her know that. He could never let anyone know how much it perturbed him that his parents could have cared less about his life. True that they had never been mean or abusive; they were just distant. His uncle had always been fairly close to him, and had been thrilled to take him in, oblivious of his hidden agenda. In fact, in his time spent with his uncle, Jesse had felt more like he'd had a real family than ever before between New Directions and Uncle Chris. New Directions—damnit, there was Rachel again. It never mattered what he was doing or what he was thinking about, she always found a way to creep back into his head. God how he wanted to call her, just hear her voice for a little while; but he had to refrain. He couldn't seem too needy; that would just push her away. Instead, he meandered to his room and threw himself onto the bed, utterly exhausted. He lie facedown for quite sometime before rolling over to his back. Mid-roll, however, his eye caught on the purple stuffed animal stuffed on his bookshelf. Standing, he pulled it out, knocking over a CD case that crashed to the floor.

Jesse bent to pick up the CD and smiled to himself. In her neat scroll, Rachel had written, "To my Grumpy Bear for our one-month anniversary" on an elegant piece of paper that she had decorated with stickers and glitter glue. He squinted his eyes, refusing to allow a CD and a Care Bear to make him cry—he was a man after all. But regardless of his pride, he put the CD in the stereo beside his bed and returned to the mattress, staring upwards at the fan and holding the bear.

_"Hi Jesse!" _Rachel's voice echoed throughout the room. _"We've been officially dating for one month, and I decided to make you a little present. I was going to personally record all of these songs but Mr. Schue wouldn't let me have the equipment I needed so I just decided to record this intro and put the rest of the songs in their original state on the CD. I hope you like all of them, Grumpy Bear! I love you!" _Jesse frowned.

"I am a douchebag," he said aloud as the introduction to Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are," echoed throughout his room and a tear escaped from the corner of his right eye. "And apparently a woman," he added. "Keep it together, Jesse, come on."

By the time he'd reached her final song choice, which happened to be "Tonight" from West Side Story, Jesse had cried more than he believed possible for an eighteen-year-old male. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, an idea springing to his mind. He dug through his desk drawers for a CD and pulled up iTunes on his laptop. Jesse St. James had twenty-seven gigs of music—this was going to take awhile.

Jesse scoured until he believed he had a satisfactory list, and quickly set to burning the CD. He would mail it in the morning on his way to school and it would hopefully arrive by Friday, and perhaps she would contact him once more by the weekend. He glanced to the clock and deemed it an appropriate hour to sleep, and curled into a ball with his Grumpy Bear, anxious for his big day at school.

* * *

When Jesse arrived to school the Wednesday of the final week of his senior year covered in bruises and double black eyes, he was met with endless amounts of criticism and countless questions, as he'd expected. Vocal Adrenaline avoided him in the hallways and refused to look him in the eyes. Jesse had to wonder, was he officially marked as a traitor to the prestigious school that was Carmel? He was questioned by several teachers who were infuriated when he explained the situation. Many blamed Shelby, but he tried to assure that none of this was her fault in the slightest. He had made the error; he deserved the punishment.

The first time he caught eyes with Gisele, she spun quickly and walked in the other direction. This surprised Jesse; was she ashamed of what she had taken part in? His appointment to meet with Principal O'Toole was at eleven, so he would have to endure at least five periods of people staring. The second time he saw Gisele was in the cafeteria, and people finally started to stare and point. He sat alone, the rest of the VA seniors at their usual table, and he received sneers from Gisele and Adam. He rolled his eyes and picked away at his food, and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He slyly pulled it out and smiled; thankful it was Shelby. She would be attending his meeting as well, and that made him feel much more confidant. He dumped his tray in a large gray trashcan, and spun to find himself staring straight in the eyes of Adam.

"Well, well. Nice of you to show your face, St. James," he smirked, a gleam of superiority in his eyes. Jesse rolled his eyes irritably.

"Listen, Adam. I really don't want to fight. You win, okay?" Jesse threw up his hands. Adam narrowed his eyes.

"Oh no St. James, that's not how this works. You don't get to play martyr and make everyone feel sorry for you. You're the reason we lost everything," Adam sneered. Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Do you even hear yourself? Do you really think that something this insignificant is going to matter at _all _in five years? You really think _anyone _is going to give a damn how many times you've won the National Show Choir Championship?" even as the words were pouring from his mouth, Jesse was only accepting their meaning for the first time. Adam, however, was staring at Jesse with utter disbelief.

"What happened to you?" he asked, shaking his head. "You used to only care about one thing—success, and then you went off to that stupid little school for pansies and lost everything." Adam crossed his arms, and Jesse laughed.

"You know something Adam? I did lose everything. I lost everything when I let you and your moronic 'teammates'" Jesse held up his hands into quotation marks, "convince me that I should break the heart of the one thing that's ever made me _feel _anything." Jesse turned to his right, and Adam stood, appalled.

"You're not going to be anything," he called after him. "You're just going to be garbage. You've blown it!" Jesse stopped dead, and had to laugh.

"I'm going to be garbage?" he asked, turning once more. "You know something, Adam? You're a piece of work," Jesse took a deep breath, unsure of whether to proceed, but something took a hold of him, and he couldn't stop. "Just remember, the kid you chose to beat half to death is the same damn kid who used to sit in your basement playing N64 and trading Pokémon cards. Or did you forget that part?" Jesse spat. He didn't wait to see the horrified, broken look on Adam's face; he simply strode out of the cafeteria and made his way toward the Principal's office.

Shelby and Beth were waiting for him in the seats outside the main office. He gave Shelby a large hug and sat in the chair beside her, nervously playing with the bottom of his black tee shirt. She noticed and grabbed his hand.

"You've got nothing to worry about. If it comes down to it, it'll be blamed on me." Jesse scowled.

"But I don't want that!" he hissed. Shelby shrugged.

"Look, I'm sure that he'll believe us once he sees you in person. But just in case, I need you to know that I'm fully willing to take any punishment—"

_"No, _Shelby," Jesse growled. There was no time for her to retort, however, because Principal O'Toole poked his head out of the office and ushered them inside.

"Jesse," he said, shaking his hand and giving him a once over. "Why don't you sit down and tell me what's happened."

Jesse recapped the story of his loss at Nationals, being threatened, and being attacked after they stepped off the plane. Principal O'Toole looked utterly uninterested, and Jesse found himself scowling more often than not. By the time his story was completed, Principal O'Toole had his arms crossed and eyebrows raised, and Shelby was mirroring his pose.

"Well Jesse, your story is very…compelling," the principal said finally, causing Shelby and Jesse to glance at one another in concern. "But I simply must say that the evidence just isn't there to accuse these poor students of anything." Jesse's jaw dropped.

"Poor students?" he repeated. "Principal O'Toole, if I may, have you seen my eyes and my arms?" he questioned. The principal waved him away.

"Jesse, listen, I'd love to believe you, but if you don't have anyone who can say they _saw _this happening, it's out of my hands."

"This is garbage," Jesse growled. "Look I'm not looking for them to be expelled, I just want it known that things like this are happening!" The principal glowered back.

"Mr. St. James," Principal O'Toole said more formally, "Unless you can produce a witness, there's nothing I can do." Shelby slammed her fist down on his desk.

"Why would he _lie _about something like this?" she nearly screamed. Principal O'Toole raised an eyebrow.

"Miss Corcoran, are you quite finished?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair. "As much as I would love to believe the two of you, there is substantial evidence that points to this being simply a ploy to get back at your students for losing at the competition." The principal turned to Jesse. "Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps your instructor went behind your back and requested that these students beat you?"

"That is BULLSHIT," Shelby cried.

"Miss Corcoran, that is really quite enough," the principal sneered. Jesse put his head in his hands, frustrated.

"She wouldn't _do _that," Jesse attempted to explain.

"Well I'm sorry, Mr. St. James, but unless you can provide something better, this is the only explanation I've got."

"What about someone better?"

Jesse spun wildly, awestruck to see an ashamed Adam and a furious Gisele standing in the doorway. Adam's hand was tightly around Gisele's wrist, and it was evident she wasn't there of her own accord. Adam stepped forward, dragging the petite girl with him, and took a deep breath.

"It was us, Principal O'Toole. We beat up Jesse. I…I let winning get in the way of more important things, and it clouded my judgment," he locked eyes with Jesse in an apologetic stare, and Principal O'Toole mouthed wordlessly like a fish.

"Well," he finally managed to stutter, "This changes things then," he looked sheepishly to Shelby and Jesse.

"I know we'll probably be expelled," Adam began, and Jesse cut him off.

"No, I don't want anything bad to happen to them," he said, turning to the principal. "Give them detentions or something, but I don't want it to affect their graduations," he said forcefully. Adam looked at him gratefully. The principal huffed.

"Fine," he agreed. "Mr. Cloud, you and anyone else involved will have detentions starting this afternoon until school lets out. Does that seem fair to everyone?" Principal O'Toole looked to Shelby and Jesse expectantly.

"Thank you," Jesse grinned, and looked back to Adam, who shrugged. Jesse and Shelby were dismissed from the office, while Adam and Gisele were asked to stay and share a list of all those parties involved. As they reached the hallway, Shelby turned to Jesse.

"What the hell was that about?" she asked, and Jesse frowned.

"What?" he questioned.

"Adam. I thought he hated you. You guys have been in competition since your freshman year," Shelby explained, and Jesse just smirked.

"There's a lot you don't know about Adam Cloud," he shrugged. Shelby grinned.

"I'll see you on Monday, St. James," she hugged him goodbye before picking up Beth's carrier and heading for the main lobby of the school.

* * *

Jesse was standing near his locker at the end of the day shoving books into his backpack when Adam jogged up to meet him.

"Hey," he said, and Jesse smiled at him, surprised.

"Hey…thanks for what you did earlier. It means a lot." Adam turned slightly red.

"Yeah, I owe you an apology man. I let winning get to my head, due. I'm sorry." Jesse grinned.

"It's cool. It makes me look tough," he shrugged. Adam snorted.

"Sure. Well listen, there's something I wanted to ask you. While I was in with Principal O'Toole I was talking to him…how would you like to sing the National Anthem with me at graduation?" Adam asked, and Jesse's eyes widened.

"Graduation?"

"Yeah. Every year someone sings it, and I was thinking we could do it as a duet this year, if that's okay with you." Adam looked hopeful, and Jesse beamed.

"That sounds awesome," he said, and Adam grinned.

"Great!" he said, and then shuffled awkwardly. "Hey, uh…would you like to hang out and watch old Nationals tapes?" he asked, and Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"I have a better idea. How about "The Predator?" Jesse suggested.

"Dude you know Alien is so much better."

"I knew there was a reason we weren't friends anymore."

"I will beat you up again."

"Wanna meet at my house at 5?"

"I'll pick up a pizza."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Like usual, I don't own Glee. Read and Review please!

* * *

It seemed like an instant before Jesse's graduation day had finally approached. He hadn't heard from Rachel over the weekend, and that could only lead him to believe she had no desire to talk to him. He ironed his black button down (alone), picked out a black and silver striped tie (alone) shined his shoes (alone), and put on the entire ensemble, along with his bright blue graduation robes. His uncle would be coming up, so it wasn't as though he'd be graduating alone, but Jesse had to admit he much rather would have spent the celebration with his parents, or better yet, Rachel. Shaking the thought from his mind, he threw his cap on the passenger's seat and hopped in his car, racing to make it to Carmel by 5.

At 5:03 he pulled into the parking lot, grabbed the cap, and raced into the building, up the stairs, and into the classroom his homeroom had been assigned.

"Nice of you to join us, St. James," Mrs. Harrison teased as he raced into the room. "Mr. Cloud has already been up three times, and requests that you meet him in the choral room to warm up."

"Right!" Jesse said, hurrying back out the door and down the stairs. Adam was at the piano, and he glanced up with a smile when he saw the other male.

"There you are!" he said, "I thought you'd bailed on me!" Jesse laughed, and they ran a few vocal warm ups, and performed the song twice, before returning to the homerooms.

"Well I'm supposed to give you kids an inspirational little speech, but that's not me," Mrs. Harrison laughed. "You're all really great kids and I've been so lucky to have you in my homeroom. You're going to go on to do great things. Okay, that should be good enough, right?" a few girls were already crying, and Jesse frowned. He was sure he was supposed to feel some other emotion than this, but he couldn't find it. He didn't feel as though he was graduating…he was unsure what it felt like he was doing. They were lined up in their specific order, tassels to a specific side of their caps, walking in a specific manner—it felt so bizarre, like an unrehearsed dance. As he marched like an ant into the overcrowded Carmel High gymnasium, it finally set in—this was really happening. He made a quick left and met up with Adam, exchanging excited glances, and they approached the microphone together, waiting for everyone to be seated.

It was strange, Jesse thought, singing his final song ever at Carmel High. It was even stranger performing it with the boy who for so long had posed as his enemy. When the song was completed they returned to their chairs, exchanging one final congratulatory glance. For the first time, it struck Jesse that it was unlikely he would ever see Adam again, and he couldn't help but be absurdly thankful they had reconciled just a few days before.

Principal O'Toole stepped forward and made a speech that no one listened to, as did the captain of the football team and some blonde girl he'd never even seen before. Jesse had to wonder if speeches at graduations were expected to be awful—he hadn't even kept up with who the Valedictorian—Salutatorian—Dalmatian had been. Suddenly, his attention snapped back to the corner of the gym. There, standing next to the baby grand piano that had _never _been moved from the auditorium was Josh Groban—what the _hell _was Josh Groban doing at his High School graduation? Jesse had to assume this had something to do with Shelby; she did have connections after all. _Leave it to Carmel to pull out all the stops,_ Jesse thought, smirking. He thought he saw Josh wink and Mrs. Harrison, and he couldn't help but laugh aloud. After Josh Groban finished his rendition of "You Raise Me Up,"—which Jesse felt was a little odd for a graduation performance, but what did he know—Principal O'Toole took the stage once more to introduce the Valedictorian. Jesse began to zone out once more, but then found himself brought immediately back to earth with the mention of Andrea Cohen's name. Jesse felt terribly guilty—he'd been such an awful friend, he hadn't even known Andrea was in the running. He clapped wildly as she took the stage, beaming to all her fellow students.

"Students of the class of 2010," she began, "We are very nearly there. The last four years seem to have flown by—for some of us, we spent them on the football field, others spent them in the chorus room, and others spent them in detention with Mr. Miller," there was a slight chuckle and she continued. "I could go on and on about how great we're going to become, but I'm choosing to talk about something else. A lot of us will be going off to college, and that's great. But I want to make sure that we all know something—I want all of you, my fellow classmates, to follow your dreams. Someone once told me that, 'a dream is something that fills up the emptiness inside. The one thing that, you know if it came true, all of the hurt would go away.' Well class of 2010, I'm here to tell you to go after your dream, any dream you might have, no matter how outrageous," Andrea's eyes were tearing up, and Jesse had to smile at the use of Shelby's quote in her speech. They had been told that phrase over and over at rehearsals when they were on the verge of giving up, and Jesse felt a pang of guilt remembering how he'd used it against Rachel. "I'm also here to tell you never to give up, no matter how hopeless you think a situation is. No matter how low your life seems, no matter how little you feel you can go on, things will _always _get better. Class of 2010, promise me something. Whether it's going after the girl of your dreams or a big promotion, always give it your best shot. No matter if you might fail, at least swear that you'll try. Don't be afraid to dream big, Class of 2010." The audience began to applaud, and Jesse caught Andrea's eye, grinning. This had settled his internal argument—the second he walked across the stage, the second he had that diploma, he was going to Rachel's house and winning her back, no matter what he had to do.

It felt like hours before they even started handing out diplomas, and the teachers were reading names excruciatingly slowly. He had to smile as Adam and Andrea received theirs, clapping loudly, and he bounced anxiously on his metal folding chair, receiving an odd glance from the redhead beside him. When his homeroom finally stood, he was sure his heart was able to be seen pounding from under his robes.

"Jesse St. James," Mrs. Harrison called, and it took all of Jesse's self control not to simply run across the stage. "Mr. St. James was co-captain of Carmel's award winning Vocal Adrenaline, and he will be attending the University of California Los Angeles on a free ride, majoring in theatre," she announced to the crowd, who cheered loudly. Jesse anxiously took his diploma from Principal O'Toole and shook his hand, then shook the hands of a few people he'd never seen before. After shaking the last hand, he headed back towards his seat, and made to escape, but his path was blocked by another teacher.

"I don't think so, St. James," the angry looking, balding man scolded. Jesse scowled and shuffled back to his row, where he stood, waiting for the rest of his classmates so they could all sit down as one. He was tapping his foot impatiently; there were at least five more rows of students, plus whatever excess would be at the end. Jesse shot a look back at the balding teacher who had foiled his plans, and then took to glancing around the gymnasium to keep himself distracted. It was then he noticed Shelby on the bottom bleacher nearest to the piano, conversing with Paul the pianist and holding Beth. He tried to catch her eye but she seemed distracted with someone across the gym. Jesse followed her glance, but couldn't figure out whom she was staring at through the thick mass of people in the bleachers. Shrugging it off, he attempted to watch his fellow students receive their diplomas, but he only made it through three kids before becoming bored.

He began running ideas through his head as to what he would say when he showed up at Rachel's door on a Monday evening wearing his graduation robes and begging for forgiveness. Everything he could think of sounded so meek and pathetic, and although he didn't want to come off the pompous asshole he usually did, Jesse still had _some _dignity. He smiled when he thought about her face; how confused she'd be, how she would slowly comprehend that he'd come from Graduation, how she'd probably ask what he was doing there and he'd just say…what would he say? He needed to come up with something to knock her off her feet, and it had to be good. Jesse scowled—he'd always been so smooth, what had happened?

That was obvious; Rachel Berry had happened.

He continued to run scenarios through his mind. In some of them, she came running and met him in the middle of the walk and he picked her up and spun her around. In others she slammed the door in his face and he scaled the side of her house up to her room and waited for her_. Maybe I should sing,_ Jesse thought. It seemed appropriate; it was them, after all. His stomach was doing flips; it was decided: no matter which way it went, Jesse would go to sleep tonight knowing if Rachel Berry would ever care about him again the way he cared about her.

As Andrew Ziggi's name was finally called and the applause died down, Jesse's heart began to race, but for the first time all night, it wasn't because of Rachel. It was finally hear, he was finally done. They would throw their caps and that would be it. He would share a few final glances with people; perhaps see a few of them at parties over the summer, but after that, he would leave Ohio and more than likely never come into contact with them again. It was a bittersweet feeling, even more so because of the faint remnants of bruises on his arms and around his eyes. Gisele still hadn't properly apologized, and he doubted that she ever would. Jesse had always known Adam had a heart, but he'd never seen Gisele show compassion for anything or anyone.

"Congratulations, Carmel High School Class of 2010," Principal O'Toole smiled from the podium in front of the throng of teenagers. "You did it," he laughed, and there was a loud cheer. The students moved their tassels to the opposite side of their heads, and threw their graduation caps in the air. Jesse turned to the kid next to him and beamed.

"Congratulations!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. The boy smiled back politely. He was a skinny black boy that Jesse hadn't spoken to much in high school, and Jesse frowned. "You know, I'm sorry that I never really talked to you in high school," he said, feeling nostalgic. The boy raised an eyebrow.

"You asked to borrow a pencil in the eighth grade…" the kid said, and Jesse clapped him on the shoulder.

"And I'm sure that pencil went to great use. Congratulations!" he looked around to everyone who was cheering, some girls who were crying, and others who were hugging. As "Pomp and Circumstance" began, Jesse felt his heart swell—this was really it, he was a high school graduate. He marched out of the gym in an orderly line, but the moment they hit the lobby, it was utter chaos—there were people everywhere. People were hugging and getting balloons and flowers. Jesse nearly stepped on a three year old who went darting in front of him as he pushed through the crowd.

He found his uncle standing near the cafeteria entrance and approached him hurriedly, his other agenda still weighing heavily on his mind.

"Congratulations Jess," Uncle Chris said, enveloping in a one armed hug. "I'm proud of you," he smiled, handing the boy a white envelope.

"Uncle C," Jesse protested, but the man held up a hand.

'I insist," he said, giving him a look. Jesse was thankful he didn't mention anything about being the only family he had there; Jesse would rather not think about his parents and how lousy they were being missing their only son's graduation. Uncle Chris put a hand on Jesse's shoulder and smiled.

"You're gonna make it big, kid. We all know that," he spoke in a tone that was dripping with adoration for his nephew. "You have plans tonight, right?" he asked, and Jesse bit his lip.

"Yeah," Jesse lied, and his uncle nodded.

"Good, I'd feel terrible leaving you all alone," he said, fishing in his pocket for his car keys. "I'll see you soon, okay kid?" he hugged his nephew once more, and then made for the exit. Jesse let out a little huff, and geared himself up—this was it, he was going to visit Rachel.

"Jesse!" He was stopped by a gaggle of several classmates; all who wanted pictures and confirmation he would attend their graduation parties.

"You know, I always had a crush on you," a skinny blonde girl admitted as they took a picture together. He laughed—was this what graduation was for, admitting secrets you'd never shared? A blonde boy approached him and shook his hand.

"Congratulations St. James!" he said, "I'm really glad you were able to be at graduation." Word had spread quickly about Jesse's interaction with Vocal Adrenaline, and, as stories usually are, it was blown totally out of proportion. The last time he'd heard it, he had gone to the hospital and been in a coma for three days—even though he'd been back to Carmel after two. Jesse just smiled and nodded to the boy, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. He was signing another boy's yearbook when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He finished his signature and glanced over. He nearly dropped his diploma.

"Hey Jesse."

* * *

After Jesse gathered himself, he burst into a wide smile. There was Rachel, standing before him looking nervous. He took her arm and dragged her out of the large crowd, standing close to a brick wall.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his heart pounding. He was supposed to come to her! She shuffled and held her arms, then began to speak.

"Well it's your graduation, isn't it?" Rachel began, and then smiled. "I received a little package this afternoon," she explained. "It was a CD, and there was no name or return address on it, so I popped it in my stereo," she bit her lip. "Was it you, Jesse?" Rachel asked, looking terrified for his response. Jesse nodded, shrugging.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Rachel was beaming, and she stepped forward.

"Why?" she asked, looking hopeful. Jesse smirked at her.

"You know why," he said, licking his lips. "Rachel I made a huge mistake running back to Vocal Adrenaline, and I knew that even before I was punched in the face." Rachel giggled, and Jesse continued. "If I could give up everything to take it back, I would. I never, ever should have put you through what I put you through. I should have known when I got too deep to cut it off, but I didn't and that's my fault." Rachel looked down at her shoes and then back up to Jesse.

"But why the CD?" she asked, and Jesse looked for an answer.

"Look, Rachel, it's like…have you ever read Harry Potter?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. Rachel tilted her head at him, confused.

"Well, yes, but…"

"Okay well like, you know how Snape really, _really_ likes Lily but he's a douchebag because he's not really ready for the feelings he has and so he just lets her go but regrets it for the rest of his life?" Rachel nodded, and Jesse took a deep breath. "I don't wanna be your Snape." He took his hands from his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. "I was going to send you this the day I left your house after the accident, but I just…couldn't," he sighed and began to read. "Rachel, listen. I know you think you can't trust me and you have no reason to, but let me say something. I got lost when I met you. I was so sure of everything I'd wanted and you made me reconsider everything. I blamed you for my faltering and I didn't understand. And I know you think you have to be strong and let this go but I don't want you to. But I guess if I love you I should let you move on, and I do. I love you, Rachel Berry," he finished reading the message aloud and looked up to see Rachel's eyes filled with tears.

"You really mean all this, don't you?" she asked in slight disbelief, and Jesse pushed a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Every single word," he whispered. Rachel's smile widened, and she nodded.

"I have one condition. I want to start over. I want to meet the _real _Jesse St. James this time," she said, and Jesse laughed.

"I'm not even sure I know who that is," he admitted, slightly ashamed.

"Well then let's find him together," Rachel smiled, wrapping her arms tightly around the boy. Jesse broke into a huge grin, and pressed his lips to her forehead. She pulled away, looking up into his eyes, and suddenly, forcefully, their lips mashed together. It felt right, despite the looks and scoffs they were receiving from families passing by, and they finally pulled apart. Rachel's face was flushed, but she looked genuinely happy, and Jesse was more excited than he had been all day. Finally, he held out a hand, smirking.

"Hi. I'm Jesse."

"I know who you are," Rachel giggled. Jesse put an arm around the girl and they walked towards the other side of the lobby.

"How did you get here anyway?" Jesse asked, perplexed. Rachel looked down at the floor, and then back up to Jesse.

"Mr. Schuester," she admitted. Jesse stopped walking.

"Mr. Schuester?" he asked, awestruck. Rachel nodded.

"Yeah. He told us that if we ever needed anything to call him, he'd be bored this summer. So I called and asked if he wanted to take a road trip to Carmel High School's Graduation," she shrugged. Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't that inappropriate?" he asked, and Rachel shrugged again.

"Whatever. Anyway he said yes, and we talked about everything on the way over. He always trusted you," Rachel confessed, and Jesse smiled. It felt good to know that at least Mr. Schuester and Puck had faith in him. Jesse pulled Rachel tighter to him, and grinned.

"Hey, would you like to go get something to eat?" he asked her, his stomach grumbling beneath his black dress shirt. Rachel nodded, smiling.

"I'd like that. Just let me text Mr. Schuester and tell him he's free to go…I feel bad making him come out here," Rachel pouted, but Jesse shook his head.

"I think he's just fine," he smirked, pointing. Rachel followed, and they both stared for a moment. Mr. Schuester and Shelby were standing in a corner. Shelby was laughing hysterically about something he had said, and Mr. Schuester was smirking at the dark haired woman.

"Is Mr. Schuester hitting on my mom?" Rachel asked incredulously. Jesse snorted.

"I believe so."

"Weird," Rachel said, before turning back to Jesse. "Now about food."

They were nearly to the main exit of the school when a voice echoed from behind them.

"Jesse Alexander!" Jesse turned quickly, and this time, he really _did _drop his diploma.

_ "Mom?"_

_

* * *

_

A/N: DUN DUN DUN! Sorry for the cliffhanger, I just couldn't resist!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: You know the usuals: I don't own, read and review.

* * *

Jesse and his mother were staring each other down in the lobby of Carmel High. Neither was speaking, just staring as though they didn't really believe the other was there. Finally, Emily St. James broke the silence.

"Hello Jesse," she smiled at her son, who was scowling in return. "Congratulations," she handed him a card similar to the one he'd received from his uncle. Jesse took it warily, still staring at his mother.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, folding his arms uncomfortably. He glanced to Rachel, who had preoccupied herself by watching Shelby and Will speaking. Jesse turned his gaze back to his mother, who was rocking unsteadily on her feet.

"Jesse, I couldn't miss your High School Graduation," she said obviously, and Jesse narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah well you nearly did. What, you didn't bother to call, say you were coming? You didn't think it was important? And where's dad?"

"Your father…you know how he is, business—"

"Oh of _course, _business," Jesse sneered, and Emily opened her mouth in protest.

"Jesse, he's proud of you, we both are," she said, attempting to win her son's affections. Jesse merely scoffed.

"Mom, really. Please," he rolled his eyes. "You have never been to anything important in my life. Ever since I can remember you've just figured you could buy me off, just like you do _every _other person in your life," Jesse's voice was warbling, but he closed his eyes, demanding that he keep his composure.

"Jesse, that isn't how it is—"

"Yes it _is _mom! My whole life it's like I've been raised by either Uncle Chris or Victoria and I never had my own parents there. And now you think you can just come strolling back into my life like you haven't left me alone all these years?"

"Jesse your father and his business, I wanted to support him—"

"What about supporting _me, _mom? I realize that you both hadn't wanted to have children, but you could at least pretend to be compassionate towards me. " Jesse took a deep breath.

"Jesse Alexander, I really think you're overreacting—"

"Mom, you are so stupid sometimes," Jesse sneered, and Rachel looked to him, annoyed.

"Jesse," she said softly. "Maybe she really is sorry. Maybe she really did want to be able to see her son graduate." Rachel looked quickly to Shelby before returning her gaze to Jesse, and he felt intensely guilty. He was being incredibly selfish when he knew that Rachel thrived for attention from her own mother. Emily smiled sweetly to the girl.

"Thank you, dear. Are you a friend of Jesse's? Graduating from Carmel this year as well?" she asked, and Rachel shifted awkwardly on her heels.

"Um, I'm actually from McKinley High, and no, I'm only going to be a junior. Jesse and I are…uh…" she looked to Jesse, questioning. What _were_ they?

"Mom, this is the girlfriend you never bothered to meet." Girlfriend. He'd used the word so quickly, and Rachel had wanted to take things slow. He looked to her apologetically, but she looked pleased.

"Oh!" Emily beamed to the brunette. "Hello, I'm Emily St. James," she extended her hand. "And you are?"

"Rachel Berry," she seemed flustered but pleased all the same.

"Lovely to meet you Rachel. How did you and Jesse meet?" Emily asked, and Rachel looked to Jesse uncomfortably.

"Really mom, this is _not _the place or the time," Jesse scowled. "I appreciate you being here, I really do. Thank you. Now if you don't mind, Rachel and I are going to go get some food. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

"I'm going back to Prague tomorrow…" Emily sounded cross, and Jesse just sighed heavily.

"What do you want me to say mom?" he asked, rubbing his temples. Emily folded her arms.

"I need to know that you're okay with me," she said finally, and Jesse looked up to her. "I need to know that you're not going to hold this against me your entire life the way…the way my brother holds it against me," she sighed. Jesse watched as his mother wiped her eyes with a handkerchief from her handbag, and he stepped forward.

"Ma, Uncle Chris doesn't hold anything against you," he hugged his mother, comforting her as she cried. Rachel stood awkwardly to the side once more, and Jesse gave her an apologetic stare. "Mother, everything is fine, I swear. You go have fun in Prague and I'll see you when you come back in August, okay?" He patted her on the shoulder. "Now I have some catching up to do with Rachel, but I promise, I'll call you more often or something. Okay?" Jesse tried to satisfy his mother.

"Oh but you know I hate you using international minutes," she scowled. Jesse closed his eyes.

"There's no pleasing you, woman," he said as he hugged her goodbye once more and began walking towards the exit.

"Jesse," she called after him. He let out a low, agitated grunt and spun.

_"What, _mother?"

"I love you."

* * *

"She said I love you. She really said I love you," Jesse repeated for the thirtieth time as they finally reached his Range Rover.

"Yes Jesse, she did," Rachel said softly, hopping into the passenger's seat. Jesse started the engine and idled as he waited for a clear path to pull out.

"I can't get over it. I don't think she's _ever _said she loved me, even when I was little," he exited the Carmel parking lot and turned right. Rachel shrugged and shifted her position in the seat.

"So we're dating now?" she teased, and Jesse glanced to her quickly.

"I'm sorry about that, it just…slipped out," he admitted, and Rachel pouted playfully.

"So we're _not _dating?" she asked. Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want to be?" he retorted, and Rachel put a hand on Jesse's leg.

"Yes," she said finally, and he smiled, taking one hand from the wheel and holding hers.

It took them quite awhile to find a place for his after-Graduation dinner—they had attempted Red Lobster, but Rachel had thrown a fit when they'd walked in and the tank was full of lobsters.

"Rachel, that's kind of the _point _of a Red Lobster," Jesse had protested, but Rachel had threatened to make a scene (as if she hadn't been already) and they departed quickly. They had tried a steakhouse, but Rachel hadn't liked the atmosphere. Finally they found themselves at a Thai restaurant, and Rachel was pleased with the meal choices, the atmosphere, and the lack of live creatures. The food was good and the prices were reasonable, so Rachel and Jesse left the restaurant feeling satisfied.

"I couldn't have picked a better first date," Rachel beamed as they stood beside his car. Jesse kissed her quickly and wrapped his arms around her.

"I don't want to take you home," he pouted, and Rachel looked to him.

"Then don't," she said, and he raised an eyebrow. "My last day of school was Friday, and my dads don't mind if I stay out, I just have to be home by midnight," she explained. Jesse smiled.

"Okay," he kissed the brunette once more, and then pulled away. "What would you like to do?" Rachel shrugged, and Jesse smirked.

"I have an idea," he said, pulling Rachel back into the car and driving off.

* * *

They finally pulled into a park surrounded by woods. Jesse got out and sat on the hood of the car, and Rachel followed suit. They sat, staring up at the sky and talking, Rachel curled up in Jesse's arm.

"Why do you care about me?" Rachel asked for what felt like the eight-hundredth time. Jesse kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

"Because you're my other half," he explained simply. Rachel scowled as though the answer weren't satisfactory, but Jesse hushed her pouting with a kiss. Forgetting all about her agitation, Rachel kissed forcefully back, pulling Jesse close to her. With one swift movement they were off the hood of the car and back inside, Rachel fumbling with the buttons on Jesse's shirt, his tie forgotten in the front seat. Jesse's hands roamed all over Rachel, searching, remembering. He ran a trail of kisses from her ear down to the base of her neck and selfishly relished in the intake of breath it resulted in. His hand had found its way under her shirt and he watched as she arched her back the higher he meandered. She let out a gasp as his finger trailed the edge of a lace bra, and suddenly, he stopped. Removing his hands from her shirt, he pushed her hair behind her ears with both hands.

"Not here," he said, and Rachel eyed him, confused. "Not here, not like this," he repeated, and she nodded after a moment of hesitation.

"You're right," she agreed, her hands resting on his chest. Jesse kissed her forehead and pulled her close.

"Don't think I don't want this," he explained, "I just love you too much for it not to be special, and I think in the backseat of a car just seems a little…"

"I believe the word you're searching for is harlequin," Rachel suggested, and Jesse let out a laugh.

"I was actually going to say sleazy, but that works too," he smirked, kissing her forehead once more. "I'm sorry I'm so overzealous sometimes, it's just…I am a guy," he shrugged, embarrassed. Rachel jutted her lower lip out slightly and looked to him.

"So you're not even attracted to me? It's just because I'm a girl?" she asked innocently, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Are you joking? Rachel, you're beautiful, you know I love you, I love _everything _about you, not just your gorgeous face and killer body—"

"You sound like Noah," Rachel scowled, but Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"Let me finish," he teased, pulling her closer to him. "Rachel Barbara Berry, I adore everything about you. I love that you say you take two sugars in your coffee but when you think no one is looking you sneak a third one in because you want people to think you drink dark coffee. I love that you have a birthmark on your right side that you think looks stupid but I think is adorable because if you squint it looks like a star. And," he trailed his thumb across her cheek, "I love that you picked me," Jesse wrapped his arms around her, fearful that she would evaporate into a puff of smoke. "You don't feel real," he whispered in her ear, and she laughed softly.

"_I _don't feel real? You're the one who only came back into my life a week ago," Rachel mused.

"Well you never left," Jesse shot back. It was strange for him to think that just a few hours prior, he hadn't even been sure she would speak to him again, and now here they were cuddled in the backseat of his car, finally a real couple. _A real couple, _Jesse thought. This time, there were no hidden agendas, no pining for former lovers. This time it was two people who genuinely wanted to be together; who wanted to stay together. Jesse couldn't help but worry slightly—he'd never been a real couple with anyone. His entire life he'd hidden most of himself from the rest of the world; Rachel was the one person that he'd let his guard down towards.

"Jesse?" Rachel mumbled from her spot curled into his side. Jesse glanced down at her.

"Yes Rachel?" he questioned, and she sat up straighter.

"I really should get home soon…my dads don't know what my plans were for tonight," she admitted sheepishly. Jesse sighed heavily, but nodded.

"You're right. I get to see you whenever I want now, I shouldn't be selfish." They returned to the front seats and drove back to Lima basically in silence, the windows down and Jesse holding Rachel's hand most of the way, except for those fleeting moments when he felt it safer to hold the wheel with both hands.

They pulled into the Berry driveway and stared at one another for a few minutes.

"Are you real?" Jesse asked once more, and Rachel's musical laughter filled the car.

"Of course I am," she said, leaning over and kissing him once more. "I'll see you tomorrow, yes?" she questioned, and Jesse nodded eagerly.

"Absolutely," he whispered breathlessly.

"Goodnight, Jesse," Rachel beamed, pecking him one last time before hurrying out of the car, up the walk, and through the front door. Jesse sat in awe for a moment. Had it really all happened? Was it all real? Would he wake up in the morning and it all be fleeting, just a thin memory he could barely grasp with his fingertips? Jesse backed out of the driveway and began driving down Rachel's street back to the turnpike. He was nearly to the end of the drive when a little gray Subaru screeched out of a driveway and blocked the road Jesse had been about to make a turn onto. Frustrated, he honked softly, and when that didn't jolt the driver's attention, he remained on the horn for quite sometime. The driver of the opposing car didn't move, however, and Jesse cursed under his breath. He considered storming out himself, but was sure that would just cause a fuss. It was then that he watched a tall, wide shouldered figure get out of the driver's side and begin walking toward his car. Jesse was breathless.

"Oh shit."

* * *

A/N: Uh oh! What will happen next? Who is the mysterious figure in the car, and what does he want with Jesse?


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I'm so sorry I left you guys with that awful cliffhanger for so long! It just took me awhile to really get inspired for this chapter-I probably rewrote it about fifty times, so I hope you all like what I came up with! R&R, please!

* * *

Jesse had about six seconds to consider his options. He could throw it in reverse and peel down the road the other way until he reached the cul-de-sac, and then...and then what? He'd be cornered. He could stay where he was and lock the doors, but how long could he stay there? He couldn't call Rachel; he didn't want to bring her into this. And his last option was to simply get out of the car and take what was coming to him—perhaps after the primal instincts were satisfied he would be allowed to leave. Taking a deep breath, he took the keys out of the ignition and like a martyr, exited his car. All six foot, three inches of Finn Hudson towered above Jesse, glowering down at him.

"All right Hudson," Jesse said, surrendering. Finn folded his arms and stared the teen down. "If you're going to beat the shit out of me I'd appreciate it if you could at least avoid my face." Finn continued to stare.

"Just let me ask one thing, St. James. Are you and Rachel back together?" Jesse nodded, wincing, waiting for the impact. When it didn't come, he squinted an eye open, and realized Finn expected him to continue.

"It happened tonight after my graduation," Jesse said, crossing his arms uncomfortably. "So she never lied to you. When I was beat up by Vocal Adrenaline, she really was helping me get better."

"And Puck likes you enough to punch me in the gut for you," Finn adjusted his stance, successfully continuing his quest to look menacing. Jesse averted his gaze. "Look, St. James, I don't trust you. I don't like you, and I don't trust you at all. And when Schuester texted me and said Rachel was going to your graduation—"

"Mr. Schuester told you?" Jesse questioned, irritated that this man whom Rachel trusted so much would betray them. Finn glared back, and Jesse flinched, sure he was going to be punched sooner or later.

"He didn't know things between Rachel and I weren't so good, he wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get hurt again," Finn explained. "So here's the deal St. James. I don't have to like you, and I don't have to be nice to you. But I have to accept that you're the one she wants, and it's not me. I blew my chances with her, and that's something I'm going to have to live with." Finn stopped to catch his breath. "But let me tell you this, Jesse St. James. If you hurt her in _any _way, and I mean any—if I get the slightest word that you so much as made her tear up, I will rip you apart with my bare hands, you can be sure of that," Finn's nostrils flared, and he appeared to be severely restraining himself. "Because although I don't think she deserves you, you're being given a second chance, and Rachel doesn't give those out easily. So you better appreciate it St. James," Finn stepped forward threateningly. Jesse nodded, glancing toward his car and questioning making an escape.

"I know, Finn," he said. "I really messed up when I broke her heart, and you don't know how badly I regret it—"

"Oh don't I?" Finn sneered. "How do you think it feels, being kissed and cuddled and finally admitting to a girl that you love her, then just a few short weeks later, she tells you that it's never going to work, and by midnight that night, you kicking over a chair in a public restaurant goes viral?" Jesse opened his mouth, but Finn continued. "It's not cool!"

"You told her you loved her?" Jesse asked finally, and Finn broke his intense stare down of a nearby tree to look back to Jesse.

"Yes, I did. And I really thought it was going to be okay because it was right before we performed at Sectionals and she was really…I don't know…she acted like it was okay. And then after that, after we came back from the hospital, it was all different. She tried acting like it wasn't—she'd cuddle with me and hold my hand, but she just wasn't there, and I know it was all your damn fault, St. James," Finn glared. "But I care about Rachel enough to want what's best for her and is going to make her the happiest, and unfortunately, that's you." Finn crossed his arms. "So this is your warning, St. James. One wrong move, and I'm coming after your ass," Finn huffed, and Jesse nodded, thankful this confrontation hadn't ended in any punches being thrown. Finn was walking back to his respective car and Jesse had just opened his door, when Finn spun one more time. "Oh and St. James?" he called, and Jesse's head snapped up.

"Yeah Finn?"

"What do you expect her to do when you go to college?"

* * *

What _did _Jesse expect her to do when he went away? He had been so wrapped up and excited about the reunion that he hadn't even stopped to consider the consequences. He pulled over on the turnpike, his heart thudding in his chest, staring at the black steering wheel in horror. He was gearing both of them up for disaster and heartbreak. He would become accustom to seeing her, being with her everyday, and then he would leave for California and everything would go to shit. What was he doing? How could he willingly allow himself to hurt the girl he cared so much about once more? But what would hurt less—losing him, or never having him to begin with?

A surge of terror fled through Jesse. He glanced at the clock on his dashboard—it was nearing 2AM. Panicked, he pulled out his cell and quickly dialed Rachel's number, cursing himself for feeling the need to wake her up, but unable to think of any other solution.

"Jesse?" she mumbled sleepily, and Jesse breathed heavily.

"Rach, I need you," he said quickly to the mouthpiece.

"What?" his girlfriend replied, groggy. Jesse held the phone in place and peeled off the side of the road.

"Leave your window open. I'm coming back over."

"What?" she was slightly more alert now. "Jesse what's going on?"

"I'm freaking out, Rachel," Jesse admitted, "And I just need you."

"But what about my dads?" she questioned, and Jesse let out a grunt of despair.

"I'll hide in your closet if I have to, _fuck, _I just need to see you," he begged.

He was pulling onto her road before he knew it, and parked a few houses down so as not to accrue suspicion from her dads. He grabbed his cell and keys, and crept silently down the quiet street. He looked up to Rachel's window, where he could see the silhouette of the girl pacing back and forth. It wouldn't be _that _hard, once he had a decent footing on the tree. He jumped and grabbed onto a limb, then hoisted himself up branch by branch until he was teetering dangerously near her window. He slid a foot onto the ledge and leapt through the window, Rachel jumping as she heard the noise, but he landed miraculously quietly on her carpeted floor.

"Jesse what's going on?" she sounded worried, but Jesse grabbed her face with both of his hands and kissed her forcefully. When they broke apart, he put his forehead to hers and pulled her tight.

"Don't go," he said finally, and she furrowed her brows.

"Jesse I'm not going anywhere," she scowled, and Jesse groaned.

"But I am," he said painfully. "What are we doing when I leave for school?" he asked her, and she looked shocked.

"I…I don't know. But should we really think about that now? I mean we've still got two and a half months," she argued, and Jesse kissed her forehead.

"I don't want to waste a single second I have with you," he said finally.

"I know," Rachel said, taking his hand, "But it _is _2:30 in the morning," she added, glancing quickly at the alarm clock on her bedside table.

"I'm not leaving," Jesse began, and then turned to Rachel, "If that's okay?" he asked, blushing. Rachel giggled and nodded.

"We just have to be careful. If my dads catch you here they'll murder me," she explained, and Jesse kissed her.

"I wouldn't dream of letting that happen to my girl," he whispered. Rachel pulled him towards the bed, and with a thump, he landed on top of her. Their breathing became ragged, and Rachel looked to him expectantly. "Rach," he said breathlessly, and she had a firm grasp on the front of his tee shirt.

"Yes Jesse?" she retorted, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"I…" he couldn't think; he could barely breathe. He watched as her tongue poked out from between her lips to hydrate her cracking bottom lip, and he couldn't restrain himself: his bottom lip collided with her top in a heavy, forceful kiss.

Jesse's hands were tracing Rachel in a way that they hadn't before; he'd always attempted to stay slightly reserved after he'd been so rude about trying to be with her at the start of their relationship. Now, however, the boundaries he'd set for himself were beginning to fall, and he could hear Rachel's inhibitions crumbling.

"Rachel," Jesse began in an attempt to protest, but he was quickly sidetracked as she placed a trail of kisses from his ear to his collarbone.

"Yes Jesse?" she questioned once more, and he swallowed hard.

"We can't," he began, her fingers tracing a pattern across his back.

"We _shouldn't," _Rachel corrected with a smirk, and Jesse bit his lip, looking away from the girl. Yes, he loved her more than anything, but he wanted things to be taken slowly, wanted things to be special this time. "I'm tired of always doing the right thing," Rachel protested, sitting up slightly. "I just want to _feel_ something, I just want to be in love—ridiculous, inconvenient, can't-live-without-you-love." Jesse laughed and looked Rachel in the eyes.

"You've been watching _Sex and the City,_ haven't you?" he teased, and Rachel shoved him, frustrated.

"I'm being serious, Jesse! I just want to _be_ with you," she uttered desperately, and he sighed.

"We will be, I promise," Jesse pushed a hair behind her ear. "For now I just need to be next to you," he insisted, and (after huffing and crossing her arms like a toddler) Rachel curled into his arms. She was asleep within minutes, and Jesse had to marvel at the fact sheer moments before she'd had the energy of a hungry gazelle. Jesse attempted sleep, but he simply couldn't. He kept seeing images of Rachel's dads bursting in furiously, and he kept seeing the blundering Finn standing before his car, his words echoing in Jesse's brain, _"What do you expect her to do when you go to college?"_ Over and over again they repeated—it could have been minutes or it could have been hours, Jesse simply couldn't tell.

He wasn't sure where the idea came from—perhaps he had been dreaming, or maybe his brain was fine tuned to keep him from screwing things up with Rachel once more, but once the seed was planted, Jesse simply couldn't shake the thought. It was just crazy enough that it might work—the hardest part would simply be convincing Rachel that it was the best thing for everyone. He pulled his arm out from under her and slipped silently out of the bed, tiptoeing over to her desk. He laughed slightly at her bright pink laptop and felt instantly that he should do something more manly as he lifted the top. The screen illuminated his face, and he hoped that it wouldn't waken Rachel who was snoring softly from her spot on the bed. Squinting against the bright light of the screen, Jesse quickly typed in her password: galinda42. He snickered at the memory the password triggered—how furious Rachel had been when he'd guessed it correctly. He quickly snuck onto Facebook and searched through messages until he found one he'd received back in March.

"_Jesse, _

_It's really good to hear from you man, it has been way too long. I've been doing well; I just finished a run in an off-Broadway production of "Into the Woods," but I have an audition with "Spring Awakening" next week…man, wouldn't that be a sick gig? _

_Like I promised, I've been keeping an ear out for any auditions that might help you. They might be doing a re-casting of "Next To Normal," and there's also one for "West Side Story," coming up this summer. The only other one I know of is the big "Fiddler on the Roof" comeback, but idk why you would remotely care about that. You thinking about coming up then? You could definitely stay with me if you wanted; I know hotels are hellish. Let me know what you plan on doing, hopefully I'll see you soon!_

_ Jason" _

Jesse exited the browser and shut the laptop, sneaking back to his spot on Rachel's bed. He could hear a loud beeping alarm drifting down the hallway and he glanced at the clock on Rachel's bedside table—5:15. His heart began to thunder again, wondering if her dads would look in on their daughter. He was unsure what time he finally drifted off, but he woke several hours later to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Groggily he sat up and saw Rachel at her desk, typing fluently on her laptop. She turned to smile at him and nodded to the bedside table, where another cup of coffee sat expectantly.

"You are wonderful," he mumbled, and she laughed, shutting the laptop and crawling back into bed, curled up in his side.

"You flatter me," Rachel protested as Jesse remembered his idea from the night—or morning—before.

Nervously, Jesse set his cup of coffee aside, turning to his girlfriend seriously.

"Rachel, I need to talk to you about something really important," he began, and she tilted her head.

"Yes?" she questioned, and Jesse licked his lips, his stomach churning. What if she said no? What if she thought it was a stupid idea? It was now or never, he sighed, and with a deep breath, he plunged.

"How would you feel about going to New York?"

* * *

A/N: Ahhhh I'm sorry it's another cliffhanger, but I just can't help it-I like to keep you guys guessing!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Sorry this has taken forever! I appreciate all of your reviews and everything you've had to say, and I hope you're all still enjoying the story!

* * *

"New York?" Rachel finally repeated. "As in like, the city?" she asked, sounding almost hopeful. Jesse took this as a positive sign, and proceeded forward.

"Yes. I have a friend I used to attend vocal camps with—he's a few years older, but he's really talented and he has an apartment in Manhattan and he's been keeping me updated on things going on, you know, auditions and such, and I've never really thought any of them were worth it but," Jesse plowed forward, attempting to make it seem as though this had been his plan all along, "Well, they're doing "Fiddler on the Roof" and I really want you to audition, Rachel," he said finally. She stared at him for a moment as Jesse waited with baited breath.

"You want us…to go to New York…so I can audition for Fiddler?" she repeated slowly, and Jesse nodded fervently.

"Yes," he said, squeezing her hand. She bit her lip and looked away from him.

"I don't know…" she began, but Jesse pulled her face to look at him.

"You can do this, Rachel. We can do this. We could go to New York and you could become a big star and I…well…I'll figure out what I'm doing," he shrugged. Rachel scowled.

"Jesse I'm fifteen…I can't be on Broadway," she argued, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Says who? Rachel you are so unbelievably talented, and you just need the push to get started. Well this is me pushing," he said emphatically.

"What would I tell my dads…" she began, and Jesse chewed the edge of his tongue…he had known this topic would come up.

"You're going to the city…it's a Glee thing. You're not sure when you'll be back…" Jesse tried, and Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"Jesse you and I both know that would never work. It has to be something legitimate," she scowled, and Jesse looked away. Suddenly, his head snapped up.

"Shelby," he said instantly, and Rachel's eyes widened.

* * *

After stopping at Jesse's house to allow him a quick shower and change of clothes and after Rachel had given Shelby a warning call, the pair were on their way to the dark haired woman's house, trying to come up with a plan of which they were going to tell her.

"I feel that we could tell Shelby the truth," Jesse protested after Rachel had suggested they say they were attending a dance academy. "She doesn't have any technical authority over you so she can't tell you to stay, and if she says no, it's no skin off our backs." Although his point was a good one, Rachel still couldn't help but feel a little wary asking such a huge favor of the mother she barely even knew. She shifted nervously in her seat, and Jesse reached over to her. "Rach, trust me," he smiled, taking her hand. She nodded and squeezed it gently as they turned to Shelby's street.

"Jesse wait," Rachel said, narrowing her eyes and leaning forward. Jesse rolled his eyes and looked to his girlfriend exasperatedly.

"Rachel, I'm telling you, this will be fi—"

"No, Jesse, stop. Is that Mr. Schuester?" she asked, sounding incredulous. It _was_, in fact, Rachel's, and Jesse's former Glee instructor who was leaving Rachel's mother's, and _his _former Glee instructor's, house, wearing the same clothes they'd both seen him in the evening before.

"Well that's…" Jesse began, looking to Rachel, who appeared torn between disgusted and satisfied.

"Interesting," she finished, settling on a humored look. "I did call her, she should really have rushed him out of here sooner," Rachel mused as she watched Mr. Schuester take off in the opposite direction. "Go on," Rachel nodded towards the driveway he'd pulled out of, and Jesse replaced the blue car with the nearly missing muffler.

They hopped out of the Range Rover and headed quickly for the door.

"I can't believe she found time to be with someone while she has a baby," Rachel mumbled, and Jesse shot her a look.

"Rachel, shut up," he hissed as Shelby swung open the door.

"Well now, I wasn't expecting a visit today!" she said. It appeared she'd barely had time to change her clothes, and her hair was up in a bun—a sure sign she hadn't showered. "I just got Beth down for a nap," she explained as they walked through the door. Rachel and Jesse glanced at one another, but neither said anything as they were motioned to the sofa in Shelby's living room. Rachel sat down quietly as Jesse began.

"Shelby, we need to ask a favor of you," he said. The older brunette glanced warily at the pair, clearly attempting to decipher what they could possibly need. Jesse took a peek at Rachel from the corner of his eye before venturing onward.

"I want…_we_ want to go to New York. There's an audition that I really want Rachel to go for and I really think she can do it but we need a legitimate alibi because her dads don't know we're back together yet," Jesse explained breathlessly. Shelby folded her hands and put her index fingers to her lips, thinking. "We were thinking, if you said that you wanted to bond with her and take her on a trip or something—"

"Jesse…" Shelby said, sounding exasperated. "Are you sure this is such a good idea? I mean what about college, school for Rachel…" she began, and Jesse bit his lip.

"Look, Shelby. It'll only be for the summer. If we don't make it, then we'll come home, I can go away to school and Rachel can continue her education. But if we do…I just have a good feeling," he persisted. Shelby looked to Rachel, who was remaining silent.

"And you're sure this is what you want?" she asked, her gaze locked on Rachel. Rachel frowned. Of course, fame had been all she'd wanted since she was a little girl, but to achieve it, she would have to leave it all behind—her dads, Glee, her friends…Finn—

"Of course it's what I want!" Rachel looked up at her mother, smiling. Shelby gazed at her warily before finally caving in.

"Fine. I'll need a number to reach your dads, Rachel, I couldn't imagine doing this face-to-face. I never have been a good actress," Shelby admitted, to which Jesse and Rachel both raised an eyebrow. Shelby took down the house phone number for Rachel's home.

"Shelby, would you mind if I used your bathroom?" Rachel asked, and the older woman nodded.

"It's right down the hall," she explained, and as Rachel exited, an awkward silence fell over the room. Finally, Shelby looked to Jesse. "I hope you know what you're doing," she warned, and Jesse furrowed his eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" he questioned, offended. All through his years of learning under her, she had never once questioned his motives in doing _anything. _

"Jesse she's fifteen. You think this is what she wants? She has no idea what she wants. I was seventeen when I ran way to New York and Jesse, rejection _stings_ at that age." Shelby warned, and Jesse licked his lips.

"Shelby, trust me. I know she can do this." He was confident, but Shelby raised an eyebrow.

"Jesse, I think you're not doing this for her," she hypothesized. Jesse opened his mouth to argue as Rachel came back into the den.

"Shelby you have a lovely bathroom," Rachel beamed. "The monogrammed towels and the star-shaped soap are just _lovely!" _Jesse laughed—detail was merely another hereditary trait Rachel and her mother shared.

"Isn't it perfect?" Shelby cooed. "Oh, Rachel, let me give you a quick tour, I forgot that you've never really visited!" the two brunettes departed for the kitchen, leaving Jesse alone to think. He _was_ doing the right thing, wasn't he? He wanted to keep them together, he wanted Rachel to follow her dreams—but was he ripping her away from having a childhood? Would she resent him forever when (not if, because it was inevitable) she was cast and she had to leave Glee behind?

They were in the car on the way home when he pulled off the interstate and into the parking lot of a small McDonalds. Rachel raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Hungry?" she asked, but Jesse simply turned to her, looking slightly frantic.

"You do want to do this, right?" he asked her, worry in his eyes. Rachel smiled and held out her hand, nodding.

"I'm just scared, Jesse. I've never really thought seriously about leaving it all behind, and here's a chance—a really, really big chance. And if my dad's find out that I went with you and not Shelby…"

"Rachel, I need you to tell me this is what you want, and I need you to mean it."

"Jesse, I want to go to New York City with you."

* * *

His head was halfway in the oven taking out a slightly burnt frozen pizza when he was startled by the buzz of his phone vibrating and playing "As Long As You're Mine" (Rachel's choice). Jumping, his arm grazed the side of the oven and he hissed in pain. Dropping the pizza on the countertop Jesse slid off his oven-mitt and picked up the phone.

"Yeah Rach?" he asked, wincing as he watched the little white line on his arm swell up.

"They said yes!" she squealed. "They said that they were glad I'm spending some time with Shelby and as long as I promise to call every once in awhile, they're totally okay with it!" Jesse could just imagine her twirling across her room like a dervish, and he smiled.

"So that's it then. We'll leave on Friday," he said triumphantly.

"So soon?" Rachel asked, the enthusiasm seeming to deplete slightly from her voice.

"The sooner we go, babe, the sooner you'll be a star," Jesse soothed, and after a moment, Rachel spoke once more.

"Well then, it's settled. We'll leave on Friday," she repeated, and Jesse had to laugh at the fact her tone made it appear as though it were her own idea.

"Sounds good babe," he sighed, content. "Oh Rach?"

"Yes Jesse?"

"Can you _try_ to pack light?"

* * *

The week passed antagonizingly slow. Jesse and Rachel continued their covert relationship—Jesse picking her up a few blocks from her house when she said she would be with Mercedes, sneaking in her window late at night, phone conversations that lasted well into the early mornings. He helped her pack, laughing at her array of colorful animal sweaters and attempting to convince her that she didn't need to bring a pair of knee socks to match everything she owned.

He didn't pack for himself until Thursday afternoon. For Jesse, packing for himself was simplistic: black, grey, and navy tee shirts and dark-wash jeans in a duffel bag, and all the boxers and socks he could find strewn around his room in a backpack, along with his Care Bear and his alarm clock. It was strange really—he took no pictures, no glimpses of his past life. Everything would be new, a fresh start. He was finally going to find the _real _Jesse St. James, and anything that could tie him to that old piece of his soul couldn't come with—except for Rachel, of course.

He filled a plastic box with sheet music and CDs, and carried his keyboard to the base of the stairs near the front door—he would pack the Range Rover the next morning. Looking around for anything else he could take, Idina Menzel's voice echoed from his left pocket and he flipped the phone open.

"No, Rachel, don't bring the stuffed animal costume," Jesse sighed exasperatedly, but he barely finished the statement.

"My dads want to see Shelby tomorrow before we leave!" Rachel shouted breathlessly. "What are we going to do Jesse? Everything is ruined, they're going to know—"

"Rachel, calm down," he said, running a finger through his hair and grabbing his keys from the table next to the front door. "I'll run over to Shelby's right now and explain the situation. I'm sure I can convince her to come with us tomorrow—"

"What if she says no! I just…" she was hysterical. Jesse started the engine on the Range Rover and shot out of his driveway.

"Have faith in me, Rachel," he pleaded. He could hear her make a whining noise, but finally she agreed. "I'll call you when I've talked to her, okay babe?" he questioned, cutting off an elderly man in a silver Lexus. One hand on the steering wheel, he shot Shelby a quick warning text and sped onto an exit.

"Jesse, really, you've got to stop just showing up at my house!" Shelby was exasperated and covered in what he assumed was formula and baby vomit.

"Looking good, Shelb," he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

"You are such a snarky bastard. What are you even doing here?" she asked, Beth was wailing from a bassinet in the living room. "I don't know what you want!" she said to the baby, who, Jesse couldn't deny, bared an uncanny resemblance to Quinn, except for the eyes—she most definitely had Puck's eyes.

"Rachel's dads want to see you tomorrow before we leave…" Jesse admitted, and Shelby looked up to him with wide eyes.

"Jesse…Jesus Christ, I can't lie to someone's parents. If Beth lied to me to do this—"

"Shelby I seem to remember you ran away without telling _anyone_," Jesse shot back, remembering one of her rants to them after a (in her words) "Shit show of a rehearsal." The older woman shifted uncomfortably and looked to her former student.

"Jesse, I'm just scared. Rejection is the kind of thing women in my family hold for a _long _time," she explained. "I just don't want Rachel to blame you if…you know," her voice went silent.

"If she ends up like you?" Jesse ventured. Shelby crossed her arms and didn't take her eyes off Beth. Finally, after a moment, she turned to Jesse, a few tears lingering in her eyes.

"You owe me big time, you know that?" She wiped her eyes and Jesse stood to hug her.

"Shelby, you are amazing. Really, you are," he kissed her on the cheek and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh quit being a suck-up, St. James. Go on, go. Go!" she shooed him towards the door. "You have a car to pack," she stated blatantly.

"You're wonderful."

"Get the hell out of my house."

"We'll invite you to the wedding."

"Iwill retract my agreement so fast—"

"Leaving!"

* * *

A/N: Reviews are wonderful, and this is dedicated to all of you that have stuck with this story! Hopefully the next chapter won't take too long! I love you all!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Your reviews and positive feedback are my inspiration. I appreciate and adore all of you that keep sticking with this fic, this is for you. R&R, please!

* * *

Jesse called Rachel to inform her that plans would go off without a hitch, and the pair finalized the details of their departure. Jesse had already spoken to Jason, and it turned out one of his other roommates had just moved out. Jesse took this as a sign and immediately spoke with Jason's landlady, who swooped on his offer to have another tenant. Satisfied, Jesse stopped at the bank and emptied his account, explaining to the teller he'd be leaving for college soon and would have to have his money transferred to a more accessible account. Winking at the blonde woman, she ate up his excuse without even a comment, and soon, he was back on his way home to finish packing any last items that would be brought to the city.

He barely noticed the truck in the driveway until he was an inch from the rear bumper. Frazzled, he slammed on the brake and watched as a familiar soul jumped out of the cab and walked to face him.

"If that's how you plan on driving in the city, St. James, you're in trouble," Puck teased, and Jesse got out of the car, puzzled.

"She told you?" he asked, slightly irritated. They had promised to keep this between them and Shelby. Puck leaned against the Range Rover and shrugged.

"Look, St. James. I know you like her. Maybe even love her, I don't know. Rachel…she's special. Like I know that's fuckin' corny as shit, but let me finish. Dude, she's not like every other girl who just goes along with plans like a damn sheep. And…" his voice trailed off and he looked towards Jesse's house, clearly uncomfortable. "Look you just…don't fuck with her, okay, because I'm really going to miss her. Like, a lot," he shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Puck…" Jesse began, but Puck rolled his eyes.

"Look don't make this gay, okay?" he stepped back a few feet from Jesse. "Just like, promise me that if she wants to come home, you'll let her?" the two boys locked eyes and Jesse nodded. "And I got your back when word gets back to the club she's gone," Puck noted. "It's going to be weird without her," he sighed. "She's like our quarterback, dude. We can't win without her." The pair sat in silence, and Puck finally looked to his truck. "I should probably leave," he said.

"Are you going to visit Rachel?" Jesse asked, and Puck shrugged.

"I don't want to make it weird," he began, but Jesse shook his head.

"You should tell her goodbye," he said. Puck stared at the male diva for a moment and nodded.

"Take care of her dude," he said, walking back towards his truck.

* * *

It took about thirty-five hugs and four-zillion "I'll call you when we get there's" to finally convince Rachel's dads to let her get in Shelby's car. She waved from the passenger window as they drove down the block, made a left, and stopped on a side road. Unloading all Rachel's things from Shelby's car and reloading them to Jesse's, the pair stood awkwardly before Shelby.

"Okay, well, you know how dangerous the city can be. Don't carry too much money with you at once. Lock your door at all times. Don't be too trusting of your roommates—"

"Shelby," Jesse said with a raised eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine. When you're robbed don't come back crying to me," she crossed her arms, then opened them towards her daughter. Rachel stepped forward timidly, and the two women began to cry softly. "I know you can do this baby," Shelby whispered softly. "I love you," she added, and Rachel looked up to her mother. "You are going to be amazing," she kissed the daughter she'd never known's forehead, and both women wiped their tears away as they broke apart. "And you," Shelby said, turning to Jesse. "You take care of my daughter, or I'll make sure you can't have children."

"Harsh, Shelby," Jesse teased as they hugged. She looked at them once more before waving and departing in her own vehicle. Jesse turned to his girlfriend excitedly.

"Are you ready?" he asked, taking her hand. Rachel shrugged.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she announced.

She was asleep by the time they hit the Pennsylvania border. Every so often Jesse would glance over to her and smile; amazed that he had convinced her to do this. He had to giggle softly as soft tones of "There's a World" from Next to Normal echoed through the car. He couldn't help but think this could be their song—they _were _going to be free, they were going to a place where they wouldn't be judged and they could just _be, _and frankly, that was all he had ever wanted. He stopped at a rest stop a bit north of Pittsburgh and softly shook Rachel awake.

"Rach, do you want to run in and use the bathroom? I'm going to grab a coffee. Want me to get you one?"

"Iced green tea latte please?" she pouted, opening her big brown eyes, and Jesse laughed.

"Of course," he said, kissing her forehead.

He was in line waiting for their beverages when Rachel approached him and hugged him from behind.

"What's a yinz?" she asked, and Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"A what?" he laughed, kissing her forehead once more.

"A yinz. Someone in the bathroom said, 'So where yinz on your way to?' Is that like a different language?"

"St. James!" the barista called across the crowded rest stop. They were quickly back on the road and this time Rachel stayed awake, staring out the window at the passing mountains and forests.

"It's beautiful," she muttered, and Jesse glanced to her.

"What?"

"The mountains," she cooed. "Ohio is so…flat."

"Don't get too attached," he teased. "We're going to be surrounded by different kind of mountains," Jesse added, and Rachel looked to him, puzzled. "Skyscrapers?" he explained, and she nodded. "So…"

"Noah stopped by last night," Rachel interrupted.

"Oh?"

"He's really torn up about me leaving, I could tell. I felt just awful…I'm going to miss Glee so much," she looked morose, and Jesse frowned.

"It'll be worth it though," he said finally, and she looked to him with a smile.

"Of course it will be," she beamed. They were silent, Jesse watching the road and Rachel watching the trees. "So," she said finally as they passed a large farm, "What's Jason like? You've never really told me much about him."

"Jason's great," Jesse smiled. "We were in an exhibition together when we were younger…I mean I was probably like twelve and he was almost sixteen…anyway we got really close. I mean seriously, he blew "Santa Fe" out of the water." Jesse smiled in remembrance.

"You sang a song from "RENT" when you were twelve?" Rachel asked, surprised, and Jesse laughed at her.

"No silly, the one from "Newsies."

"Newsies?" Rachel responded clearly confused. Jesse nearly crashed into the car in front of them.

_"You've never heard of "Newsies?""_ Jesse nearly shrieked. "Ipod. _Now_."

Jesse made Rachel to listen to some of the best selections from the Disney film, and she soon agreed that it should have been far better known than it was. He then went on to tell more about Jason: he was trained in ballet and tap, had a rich, gravelly voice, was one of the funniest people Jesse had ever met, and loved meeting girls.

"I mean he's not gorgeous or anything—he's a very quirky kind of good looking," Jesse explained.

"I can't wait to meet him," Rachel said sincerely.

* * *

Nearly eight hours later, after being stuck in bumper-to-bumper cab traffic in the city, after Rachel had hung out the window of the car taking pictures and squealing, after nearly being sideswiped by a limousine, Rachel got her chance. Squeezing the Range Rover into a tiny parking spot on the block of Jason's apartment building, the two got out of the car, taking their bags with them. Rachel struggled a bit with hers, so Jesse took one, leaving Rachel with the other suitcase and the duffel bag.

"Leave the rest, I'll get it in a little while," Jesse begged, and she nodded. They walked the street, anticipation etched on the brunette's eager face.

"Jesse this is so exciting!" Rachel said with a wide smile, and he was quite sure if she hadn't been laden down with luggage, she would have twirled. "I feel just like Carrie!"

"Uh oh, where's the blood?"

"Not _that _Carrie," she hissed, scowling.

After struggling to get their bags up the three flights of stairs, Jesse extracted a paper from his pocket and knocked on the door of Room 307. The door was opened to reveal a tall, skinny young man. He had hair similar to Jesse, although his was a tad shorter, but the color was nearly identical. If Jesse hadn't told her, Rachel would have had no idea he was twenty-two, he had such a youthful look.

"Took you long enough!" he grinned, enveloping Jesse in a tight hug.

"Traffic's a bitch…but I bet you know that." Jesse teased. "Jason, this is my girlfriend Rachel, Rachel this is Jason." Jason extended a hand and she shook it, smiling. He was tall—not as tall as Finn, but tall, and his fingers were long and boney.

"Man Jesse, you sincerely did her no justice with your description, she's gorgeous." Rachel reddened and turned to Jesse.

"Oh he didn't?" she teased, and Jesse put an arm around her, laughing.

"Well come on, get your shit in here. I need to introduce you to Taryn and Seth."

"I heard my name!" a woman's voice called as they carried their suitcases over the threshold. Taryn came out of a room clasping her hands, and Rachel was sure she'd just stepped back about forty decades. Taryn wasn't old—she couldn't be older than thirty-five, but she dressed as though she were on her way to Woodstock—or a fortuneteller. Wearing a flowing skirt and a shawl around her arms, she stepped forward. Her hair was long and wavy, and she too was skinny as a rail. She extended a long and freckled arm towards Jesse, beaming. "I'm Taryn, your landlady. It's lovely to meet you…Jerry?" she ventured.

"Jesse," he corrected, "And this is my girlfriend Rachel."

"Oh you are a pretty thing," she smiled, taking the girl's hand. "Seth!" she called. "Come meet the new tenants!"

Seth stumbled sleepily out of the same room. He had long blonde hair that was pulled into a messy ponytail, and, Jesse noted, bared a striking resemblance to Kurt Cobain.

"This is my husband Seth," Taryn introduced, wrapping her arms around the man's waist.

"Yo," he waved. "Welcome to New York."

"Oh, I should show you your room!" Taryn motioned for the pair to follow her, and grabbing hands, they obliged. She ushered them into the room—it was average sized, and there would be plenty of space for Jesse's keyboard. Jesse had already accepted that he would have to surrender the closet to Rachel, but there was a decent sized dresser against the left wall, and a window opposite the bed. "You'll be sharing the main bathroom with Jason," Taryn explained, leaning against the slightly yellowed walls. "And we don't have too many rules, I mean nothing out of the ordinary. Most of the time Seth and I aren't here in the evenings because we have gigs—"

"You're a performer?" Rachel asked excitedly, and Taryn smiled at her.

"Yes, Seth and I have a folk band," she explained. "And you're welcome to come to gigs when you're available, Jason comes all the time. That's how he meets girls," she called out the open door, teasing. "But yes, our only real rule is no pets, and that's only because Sethie is deathly allergic…oh, and I get the TV Thursday nights." Taryn extended her freckled arm towards them again, shaking their hands kindly. "But I hope you find everything to suit you, I'll let you get unpacked," she said sincerely, and turned. "Oh, and I hope you don't mind, I'm making a vegetarian gumbo for dinner." When she had closed the door behind her, Rachel turned to Jesse, and he could almost see the stars in her eyes.

"I _love _it here."

* * *

A/N: I'm a born and raised Pittsburgher, so no hate meant there! And for those of you who AREN'T aware, "Yinz" is a local term, it's like the Western Pennsylvania variation of "ya'll."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Love you all so much, the feedback has been nothing less than amazing. There is some teen drinking in this chapter, just as a warning! R&R, please!

* * *

Jesse wasn't surprised at all when Rachel instantly bonded with Jason, he'd been sure they would. He also wasn't surprised when she and Taryn became friends as well, especially when Rachel had insisted she help prepare the veggie gumbo and suggested that she would make her infamous "Veggie Tenders and Couscous" for dinner the next evening. He was surprised, however, when he bonded with Seth over his phenomenal vinyl collection that was displayed in the living room. When they both agreed that "Carry On Wayward Son" was one of the best songs of the 1970's, Seth looked to him in amazement.

"I think you just became my best friend."

"Okay _buddies,_" Taryn interrupted, teasing softly, "But we all need to get a move on, Seth and I are on at ten."

"We?" Jesse asked, and Jason rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, really? It's your first Friday in New York City, you really think we wouldn't celebrate it in style?" he raised an eyebrow, and Jesse frowned.

"I don't know…" he protested, thinking of Rachel. His protests went unheard, however, when she exited their bedroom dressed in the outfit from their performance of "Like A Prayer" with New Directions—one of the few un-Rachel outfits she owned.

"Oh come on, don't be a pansy!" she teased, pulling on his arm. "I want to go!" she said, and then pouted. "Please?"

"Fine!" he threw his hands up in defeat, laughing. She clasped her hands in excitement and did another little twirl.

The club—well in reality, it was nothing more than a bar with a stage—was tiny and crowded, but Jesse and Rachel were able to get in with ease behind Taryn and Seth; it was evident they were regular performers at this venue. While Taryn and Seth disappeared backstage, Jason, Jesse and Rachel slid into a u-shaped booth.

"This is so exciting!" Rachel squeezed Jesse's hand emphatically, and he kissed her forehead in response.

"You just wait until they get up there. They own this place. I mean it's not Rock and Roll by any means, but everyone just loves them, and Taryn's a wonderful performer." His eyes drifted to the other side of the bar and he made to stand again. "I'm getting a beer. You two want anything?" he offered. Jesse glanced to Rachel—he was quite sure she'd never had a drink, and he was also sure she was completely unaware of his party-boy days with Vocal Adrenaline.

"Do you…mind?" he asked, slightly embarrassed. Rachel giggled and shook her head.

"No, go ahead!" she was still soaking in the atmosphere, and Jesse nodded to Jason, who grinned. "Jesse we're actually _here! _Can you believe it?"

"I knew you'd love it," Jesse beamed. Jason returned with two beers, and Rachel watched Jesse take a quick swig—it had been far too long since he'd enjoyed a beverage.

"Can I try?" she asked him, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't think you'll like it," he said honestly, but she rolled her eyes.

"Please?" she asked. Shrugging, he handed her the bottle, and she took a quick drink. Her reaction made him laugh—she was startled, awed, and excited all in one. "It's not _awful,_" she said after her coughing had ceased and she had smacked the boys for laughing at her.

"So how'd you two meet, anyway?" Jason asked over the buzz of the crowded bar. Jesse's ears reddened as Rachel glanced at him evilly.

"He was hired to seduce me and introduce me to the mother that I'd never met, and then when he was finished with that he abandoned me and went back to his team, crushing my heart and causing me to lose the Regional Show Choir Championship," she smirked. Jason raised an eyebrow, taking a drink before responding.

"That's intense," he said finally, and Jesse scowled.

"I was only supposed to _befriend _you," he protested, and Rachel giggled.

"Tomato/tomahto," Jason shrugged from across the table. "So how did you two make up then?"

"Vocal Adrenaline gave him ass," she said, and Jesse burst into laughter.

"Rachel, the phrase is 'got his ass handed to him'," Jesse said, regaining his breath. Wiping tears from his eyes, he continued her story to a very perplexed Jason.

"They beat me up because we lost Nationals."

"You lost Nationals? You've_ never _lost Nationals!" Jason was shocked.

"He thought he saw me. Isn't that cute?" Rachel teased, pinching Jesse's cheek.

"Damn, St. James. You _must _have it bad for this girl if she distracts you enough to lose at Nationals," Jason tipped the bottle of beer in their direction, and Jesse laughed.

"I sure do," he smiled.

"Alright how is everyone feeling tonight?" boomed a voice from the microphone. It belonged to a shorter man with a long, graying ponytail who was cleaning a beer glass right onstage. As the bar erupted in cheers, Jason leaned closer to speak.

"That's Nicky, he owns the place. I guess he and Seth used to work together before Nicky opened up the bar, so Seth and Taryn have been performing here for years."

"Are they any good?" Jesse asked, sipping his drink, and Jason smirked, nodding towards the stage.

"Judge for yourself," he smirked as Nicky introduced the couple as 'Still Sun" and the bar once again erupted into cheers. Taryn and Seth came onto the stage, Seth carrying an acoustic guitar and Taryn carrying an array of various small instruments.

"Hello, we're Taryn and Seth from "Still Sun," and we hope you enjoy our music," Taryn said sweetly into the microphone, and Seth played the opening chords for a 70's classic rock song he'd heard a million times but never really cared enough to learn the name of.

"She's good! It's clear she lacks years of training but she definitely has promise," Rachel observed, putting on a brave face and taking another sip of Jesse's beer. Jason began laughing, and Rachel shot him a glare.

"Jesse, she is you with a vagina."

"Rude!" Rachel squealed in shock.

"True." Jason shot back.

* * *

In the true spirit of being in New York and being a good friend, Jason had every intention of getting Jesse drunk (and Rachel too, if he could). Taryn and Seth had the bar rocking with unorthodox covers of classic songs, as well as a few original and folk covers mixed in, and the atmosphere was pleasant. It was obvious that the crowd simply adored "Still Sun," and Jesse could tell Rachel was quickly becoming their biggest fan.

"I want people cheering for _me,_" she said breathlessly, sipping on a girly cocktail Jason had purchased for her after convincing her it was a Carrie Bradshaw thing to do.

"You'll have them, baby," Jesse wrapped his arms around her as Jason playfully rolled his eyes.

"I have to pee!" Rachel shouted suddenly, darting off in the direction of a neon sign displaying where the restrooms were. Taryn and Seth finished their set and soon joined them at the booth, Nicky trailing closely behind.

"Jason, when are you going to be gracing us with a show, hmm?" Nicky asked, leaning on the edge of the table. Jason laughed and shook his head.

"I've told you Nicky, I don't sing your music," he laughed, tipping his beer towards the older man. He laughed and shook his head, then turned to Jesse.

"I don't recognize this face. New friend of yours?" Nicky asked Jason.

"Oh, Nicky, this is my new tenant, Jesse St. James," Taryn explained, introducing them. "He and his girlfriend just moved into the empty apartment." Jesse shook the man's hand, and he smiled.

"She ran off to use the bathroom, she'll be back eventually," Jesse explained as he saw Nicky's eyes looking around for a female.

"Ah," Nicky said, squeezing into the booth next to Taryn and Seth. "So what brings you to the city?" he asked Jesse, straightening the card and sugar packets in the center of the table.

"Same thing as Jason," he laughed as Nicky rolled his eyes.

"You kids and your Broadway. It's always the same thing!" he teased. "Whatever happened to rock bands and Star Search?"

"What's Star Search?" Jason teased, and Nicky waved the dishtowel towards him.

"You watch it!" Rachel came skipping out of the crowd and smiled pleasantly at the new additions to the table. Nicky's eyes lingered on Rachel, looking almost puzzled, while Rachel extended her hand to the man.

"Hello, I'm Rachel Berry," she smiled.

"Nicky," he shook her hand delicately, and shook his head as though searching for some clarity. "So Broadway, hmm?" he asked, turning his face back to Jesse. Rachel squeezed into the booth opposite him, looking to Jesse.

"Oh we're talking about our plans?" she squealed. "Yeah, Jesse and I are going to make it on Broadway, and I'm hoping to be playing Fanny Brice by the age of twenty." Rachel stated matter-of-factly. Nicky laughed, raising an eyebrow at her, while Seth giggled.

"Fanny…"

" Yes, her name is Fanny, I don't understand what's so humorous about—"

_"Well," _Nicky interrupted, sensing the impending speech that Rachel would no-doubt lash into, "If things don't go as well as you hoped, there's always a waitressing spot available. I've been helping starlets out for years," he smiled, nodding to a wall opposite their table. "That wall over there has pictures and signatures of every person who's come to the city in hopes of making it big. I keep getting the signatures, I figure eventually someone will make it big." He looked to the wall nostalgically, and then looked back to the three younger, hopeful faces. "That goes for you two as well," Nicky said, nodding to the boys, "But Jason's denied it a thousand times, and you look like you've never worked a day in your life," he teased. Jesse opened his mouth to argue, but Nicky laughed. "I'm just kidding. I should get back to the bar, it's probably gone to shit," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Nice to meet you!"

They journeyed back to the apartment close to two in the morning, Jesse keeping a protective arm around Rachel. Although Jason had assured him that nothing bad had happened in their part of town in quite some time, Jesse couldn't risk _anything _happening to Rachel. She graciously thanked Taryn and Seth for inviting them to the gig, and they bid everyone goodnight.

"We have so much to _unpack,_" she whined, flopping back onto the mattress. Jesse smirked, laying next to her and leaning over.

"I think it could wait," he mumbled suggestively. Rachel reddened, and Jesse continued. "I mean it's late, we've had a long day."

"Right," she nodded, her face a very similar color to that of her vest. Jesse's face was hovering just inches from hers, and he wore a very self-righteous smirk.

"We should probably get some sleep."

"Mmhmm," Rachel replied, nearly inaudibly, and Jesse smiled.

"I'm tired," he said, pretending to yawn and rolling away from her.

"Get back here!" she squeaked, rolling on top of him. He laughed, and she leaned down to kiss him. When they broke apart, his smile was wide.

"Hey Rachel?"

"Yes Jesse?"

"I love you."

* * *

A/N: Next chapter should be coming soon! This one is dedicated to everyone on Tumblr who has helped to keep me sane while writing these last few chapters, and Emma, who I ran the plot by and she loved.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I love you all so much. I know a few people were confused by something last chapter and I wanted to clarify: Jason is 22, and he was the one supplying Jesse and Rachel with beverages. For those of you who wondered why Nicky didn't confront Rachel about her age, you'll find out soon enough! R&R please. I adore reviews, it lets me know how I'm doing!

* * *

Jesse and Rachel got a decent rhythm down during their first week in New York. The first few days were spent unpacking, which took much longer than necessarily because Jesse kept distracting Rachel with kisses, but finally, everything was in its rightful place. When they were finally finished, they stood, admiring the work they'd done, and Rachel couldn't help but smile.

"Jesse, we have a real, furnished apartment," she spoke proudly, and Jesse put an arm around her.

"And we both have auditions coming up soon," he gushed.

"Things could not be going any better." Jesse had to agree with her—for the first time in his life, he felt as though everything were going right. Puck sent an email that night that detailed the club's discovery that Rachel was gone for the summer, but he had managed to convince them she would be returning in the fall.

_"You know how much I wish that were true," _Puck had written, _"But I hope New York is cool and you like it. Saw your mom today, by the way. I finally took your advice and called her, and she said she does want me to be a part of Beth's life, which is cool. Things are still weird with me and Quinn, but whatever. Call your dads soon, by the way. Mom heard them bitching at temple about how you haven't called in awhile or whatever. Miss you." _

"Oh honestly, it's been two days since I last called. You'd think they could survive," Rachel scowled, but Jesse laughed. He appreciated that Rachel's dads were so concerned—he couldn't imagine what they would be if they found out the truth.

* * *

Jesse was standing in the kitchen, trying not to burn the hash browns he was helping Taryn cook when Jason came bursting through the door of the apartment like a mad man.

"I GOT IT!" he shouted, and Jesse's head snapped up immediately.

"You got a part?" he asked incredulously, and Jason nodded his head furiously.

"That's so exciting! What show?" Rachel asked from her yoga pose on the floor.

"Get this…Jesse you're going to die…Wicked!" Jason looked like he was on a cloud, and there was a thud as Rachel fell from her pose into a seated position on the floor, mouth open in shock.

"You're in "_Wicked"_?" Jesse's voice was sharp. "What part?" he asked breathlessly.

"I…am a flying monkey." Jason said proudly. "I get my name in the Playbill and everything!" Rachel threw her arms around Jason excitedly "They say that with enough effort, I could be promoted to a munchkin in anywhere from three months to five years!"

"That is so exciting," Jesse beamed, still stirring the hash browns. Taryn emerged from the bathroom; her hair still wet, and raised an eyebrow.

"What's going on?" she asked, and Jason grinned.

"I am officially a Broadway actor."

"Oh my god really?" Taryn squealed. "I knew there was a reason I chose breakfast for dinner!"

* * *

Rachel's audition was a Thursday, and Jesse's would be a Friday. Rachel was following his suggestion and going out for "Fiddler," while he had chosen to attempt securing a place in the cast of "Hairspray." Although it wasn't exactly his favorite style of music, he figured it would give him a good chance to act, and he more than likely wouldn't have to cut his hair. She was going to be using her go-to, "On My Own," because she felt it would give her the innocent air she would need to portray Tevya's youngest daughter. Rachel was confident, and assured Jesse that she wanted to do this on her own. He bid her farewell as she left the house that morning, and spent most of the time rehearsing "I Can't Stand Still" repeatedly.

He didn't hear her come in. He didn't hear her walk to the living room sofa and sit down. He didn't even know she was there until he left the bedroom to get a water and was startled by her tiny figure sitting silent on the couch.

"Rachel?" he said softly. When she said nothing, he stepped forward, kneeling beside her and taking her hand. "Rachel, baby, what's going on?"

"They didn't like me," she whimpered softly.

"Rachel, you don't know that. It takes weeks for a cast list to be posted—"

"I didn't even audition," she was whispering, looking as though she were willing herself not to cry.

"What do you…" Jesse began, and she looked to him, her eyes red and puffy.

"I walked in, they looked at each other, I started to talk about myself and they stopped me, said there was a children's theatre in Brooklyn, and asked me to leave. When I looked at them stunned, they said they appreciated my enthusiasm but they couldn't be bothered to waste their time with someone with no experience." She was staring into the blank TV looking morose. "I never even got to sing."

It took the stinging pain in his palm for Jesse to realize his nails were digging into his skin, his knuckles white. He could say nothing; just stare at the girl he loved, watching her look blankly around the room.

"Well it was fun while it lasted," she said finally, and Jesse frowned, puzzled.

"What do you mean?" he questioned, and Rachel laughed bitterly.

"This. This fantasy. I mean, it's over now Jesse. We came up here for the audition and I didn't get it—"

"You can't just _give up, _Rach," Jesse hissed, and Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? You told me you wanted me to come up for "Fiddler"—"

"Rach, please, will you just keep trying?" he asked, finally sitting beside her on the sofa and pushing hair behind her ear. "I know you can do this, and when you're headlining you can tell those idiots to fuck off," Jesse smirked, and Rachel giggled, nodding and wiping her eyes as a tear escaped. "I'll never give up on you, and I won't let you give up either," Jesse wrapped his arms around her as she began to hiccup, tears flowing free. "Shh Rach, I promise you, everything will be fine."

Rachel joined Taryn and Seth for that night's gig so she could accept Nicky's job offer, while Jesse turned down the invitation in order to continue practicing. Jason was at a late night choreography rehearsal with his fellow monkeys, so Jesse would be alone all evening. Running through his monologue once more, fear gripped Jesse. Foolishly, he truly had expected that the two of them would be successful and things would go smoothly, but upon seeing Rachel be crushed so suddenly and so forcefully, he was now worried. Jesse was fully aware he didn't handle rejection well, and was quite sure his reaction to rejection would be much more violent than Rachel's.

Although he wasn't outright turned away, Jesse was well aware the casting directors of "Hairspray" weren't too impressed with his audition, and to be frank, neither was he. Convincing himself it was a shitty show anyway, Jesse walked home, confident he could find something better. He unlocked the front door of the apartment to find Rachel on the sofa with her laptop, and she smiled up at him expectantly. As he had gone to bed far before she had returned the evening before, he was anxious to hear about her first night of work, but it was clear she wanted to hear about his audition first. Locking the door behind him and collapsing beside her on the couch, he rested his head on her shoulder and shrugged.

"Hairspray sucks anyway," he said, and she laughed, nodding to the computer screen.

"I've compiled us a list of all the auditions over the course of the next two months," she said. Jesse frowned.

"Why only two months?" he asked, and Rachel raised an eyebrow to him.

"Jesse, we've been over this. If I haven't found anything by the middle of August, I'm going back to Lima. I can't throw my education away on a fantasy," she pointed out, and Jesse sighed. "You agreed to this Jesse," she began to argue, but Jesse rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Fine, fine," he kissed her. "I promise." Rachel smiled widely, and turned back to the screen.

"Well, I've organized them into three lists. Definites, maybes, and "I'm going to hate every day of rehearsal but if it means a job then fine."" Rachel explained, showing him her charts of auditions. "Mine are in pink and yours are in blue."

"Ooh, I sang something from "Chess" at Nationals," Jesse noted. "I'll try that next. What about you?"

"Well I was _going _to go for Hairspray," Rachel teased, and Jesse rolled his eyes, tickling her side. She squealed, sat the laptop on the coffee table, and squirmed, attempting to escape from Jesse's arms. "Stop, stop!" she begged, and Jesse laughed, kissing her cheek.

"So tell me about work, my ambitious little star," Jesse said, pulling her onto his lap.

"Work was work," she shrugged. "Nicky's so nice, and he's willing to pay me under the table because he understands I'm underage, which is lovely, so as long as we're not caught, everything will be fine. He says he does this all the time, and while I would normally find something like this deplorable…well…I need money," she admitted, looking guilty. "I mean it's unacceptable for me to allow for you to pay all the rent," she began, and Jesse scowled.

"Rachel, you know that's what we agreed on," he argued, and she shook her head.

"No, it's unfair! I'm living here too, not to mention I should be chipping in my share for the groceries, so it's decided. Plus it gives me something to do while I wait for audition results," she stated firmly, and Jesse sighed in defeat.

"Have you always been this insistent?"

"Only since I was about four months old," Rachel explained, and Jesse shook his head—he was fully aware she wasn't trying to be funny.

"So what does he have you do?" Jesse asked, and Rachel shrugged.

"Well I'm treated just as any waitress or barmaid," she said calmly. "I mean the way it works is that we don't come to you unless you flag us down, because Nicky feels that waitresses pestering the customers is just irritating," she explained.

"So you're a bartender?" Jesse asked, sounding surprised, and Rachel shrugged.

"Sort of," she explained. "For now I'm only serving beers, I'm not allowed to mix anything, since I really have no idea what would even go together."

"New Jersey turnpike," Jesse snorted, and Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nevermind," he shook his head.

"Anyway," she said, looking confused, "I'm only serving cheese fries and beer, it's not very serious, but I like it," she shrugged. "And I'm only doing this until the auditions," she reminded both of them.

"Excuse me, miss, would you mind serving me your infamous honey buns?" he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. Rachel looked to him with wide eyes, blinked a few times, and then crossed her arms.

"Sorry, we're fresh out. How about the stupid with a side of douche?" Jesse laughed and pulled her closer to him, kissing the back of her neck.

"I have to keep you away from Jason, you're getting quite a mouth."

* * *

One thing Jesse came to appreciate after Rachel took the job was her addiction to coffee. She explained to him that since she was now down an elliptical, she refused to let her morning routine go to hell, and would go running in the mornings. This meant that at 6AM every day, even the days when Rachel had been waitressing until two or three in the morning, Jesse too was awoken by Matthew Wilder proclaiming, "Nothing would break his stride or slow him down," and shortly thereafter, the sound of Rachel's hand blender making her protein shake with banana and flaxseed oil. Jesse was usually passed out again by the time she was out the door on her run, and nine times out of ten, she returned with a Venti Starbucks in hand.

"Rachel, I'm sure you could get away with pushing the routine back to 8," Jesse attempted to persuade her one morning as she chugged her third cup of coffee in less than an hour.

"No I'm fine," she said quickly. She'd been out later than usual, getting in closer to four, and Jesse couldn't help but worry as she hopped eagerly from the sofa. "I haven't danced in ages, I think I'm going to dance. Would you help me move the coffee table so I have somewhere to practice? Nevermind, I'll just do it myself." She was speaking a mile a minute, and Jesse grabbed her shoulders softly.

"Rachel, sweetheart, you're going to exhaust yourself. C'mon, please, just go take a nap or something."

"I can't take a nap! I need to practice! I've got my Billy Elliot audition at the start of next month and I simply need to be in top shape," Rachel tried to reason with him. "I have to pee!" she shrieked, and rushed off into the bathroom. Jesse shook his head as he stared after the adorable, caffeinated brunette; he _had _to remember to hide her iPod later when she wasn't around. Jesse felt his phone buzzing violently in his pocket. Removing it from his pocket, he frowned immediately—country code 420? Knowing full well who was on the other line, Jesse took a deep breath and dreadfully answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Jesse Alexander."

* * *

A/N: She's baaaaaaack! Let me know what you think-should Rachel have gotten that part? Were the directors too rude to her? Make your voice known!


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Two updates in one day-just for you wonderful, wonderful people. =] Reviews are love, and you know how much I appreciate all of you!

* * *

Jesse ran a hand through his hair, frustrated as could be. His mother was truly, _truly _the last person he wanted to speak with, and from her tone of voice, he was quite sure what she was calling to discuss. Rachel came darting from the bathroom, but Jesse held a hand to his lips, pleading, pleading for her to be silent. Nodding, she dashed into the bedroom to change, while Jesse sat on the sofa, gearing himself up for the impending fight.

"Jesse, where are you?" his mother asked. He closed his eyes, wishing he could gather the courage to simply close the phone, but he remained calm and silent. "Jesse Alexander do not take me for a stupid woman. Hilda gave me a call after she said she hadn't seen you _or _your car for quite some time. Is there something you'd like to discuss?" Hilda, of course, he should have known the maid would open her big trap; she always did.

"I'm in New York mother," Jesse said coolly, rolling his eyes. He could imagine her, mouthing wordlessly, offended by such a "careless departure."

"Jesse _what _are you doing in New York, may I ask?" she questioned, and Jesse bit back the urge to give her a sarcastic, bitter answer.

"Decided to take a trip for the summer," he explained, licking his lips. "I'm spending the summer with Jason. You remember Jason, don't you mother?" he asked, smirking. He was sure she wouldn't—she probably didn't even remember Rachel.

"I see," she said after a moment. "And did you give any thought to the fact that UCLA would be mailing things for your start in the fall to our _house, _Jesse?" Emily snapped. Jesse sighed, rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand on his left temple.

"Honestly, _mother_, they email _everything _now," he excused.

"Jesse Alexander, **go home,**" his mother hissed forcefully, and Jesse let out a low, bitter laugh.

"Right mother, because I've ever listened to what you've had to say before," he giggled.

"Jesse Alexander, do not speak to me that way!" she growled, and Jesse sighed.

"Mother, listen. I have everything under control; you have nothing to worry about, okay? I'll be back home shortly, I just wanted to see my friend before everything changed," Jesse lied; using one of the talents he was best known for. He could hear his mother grumble, unsatisfied, but she didn't argue. Finally she spoke, evidently desiring to change the subject.

"So what have you been doing in the city? You did always like it there," Emily seemed to be reminiscing, and Jesse raised an eyebrow, surprised at such a display of emotion.

"I do hope to live here one day," Jesse said dryly, attempting not to laugh at the irony of such a statement.

"And how is Robyn? That's her name, right?" Jesse nearly dropped the phone, shocked. She remembered…well, sort of.

"Rachel, mother," Jesse said, laughing slightly.

"Whatever, I was close," Emily sounded frustrated. "How's she handling not seeing you all summer?" Jesse bit his lip, hoping to find an excuse.

"She's fine. She's busy; she's just as ambitious as I am, so she's doing a lot of workshops this summer," Jesse crossed his fingers, hoping his mother would buy the excuse. He heard her sigh, and let out a relieved breath.

"Jesse, I hope you know what you're doing. It's not healthy to go away to school with a girlfriend at home, I feel it holds you back—"

"Mother, please. I don't want to talk about this."

"I'm just saying, Jesse, I don't want to see you making huge life decisions based on a girl who things may not even work out with," Emily warned.

"Thank you for the life lessons, mother," Jesse sighed, rolling his eyes. "But I think I'll be okay, really," he shook his head once more, rubbing the spot on his head that was in constant ache when he spoke with his mother.

"Just mind your heart," Emily warned. "Your father says hello."

"I'm sure he does," Jesse snorted as his mother huffed.

"Alright Jesse, I've got to be going. We've got a dinner with some business partners," she tried to explain, but frankly, Jesse didn't care what her excuse was.

"Goodbye mother."

"Jesse…have a good time this summer…and _try_ to think about what I've said," she begged him.

"Good_bye _mother," Jesse said before hanging up the phone and shoving it back into his pocket. He could try to convince himself that she meant well but he knew it was useless—no matter what he did, he would find a way to be frustrated with her. Jesse entered the bedroom to inform Rachel that he was off the phone, and laughed when the door was open. There was Rachel, curled in a ball on the bed, fast asleep. Jesse didn't care what his mother, or Finn, or frankly _anyone _thought—he was absolutely positive that Rachel was it—she was the one for him.

* * *

Despite all of his attempts to convince her to join him, Rachel insisted that she was saving her energy for auditions in which she was guaranteed a lead role. Although Jesse thought the theory was slightly presumptuous, he dared not argue with Rachel, and instead departed for his audition for a role in an off-Broadway production of "Chess." Although perhaps he should have been wary because his performance of a song from "Chess" had landed him in quite a bit of hot water after Nationals, Jesse believed that it was going to be a successful audition—after all, the aforementioned hot water had landed him Rachel. However, in his attempts to get Rachel to join him, Jesse didn't notice just how close he was cutting it, and chose to take the rest of the journey at a full on run, skidding to a halt in front of the theatre. Running a hand through his hair, he removed the backpack from his shoulders and walked confidently through the double doors of the theatre, two other actors—one male and one female already sitting on wooden chairs, glancing over their sheet music.

Silently Jesse took a seat on the ground, nodding to his fellow auditioners. His hair and forehead were moist with sweat, and he used his sheet music to fan himself off slightly before glancing at it one more time. Jason had given him the suggestion to use something that was a little more mainstream because casting directors tended to become quickly bored with showtune after showtune, and Jesse had settled on R.E.M's "Losing My Religion." This decision had spawned a brief argument with Rachel, who would never betray showtunes for an audition, but that had been quickly settled when Jesse assured her that he knew what he was doing (and had distracted her by pushing her up against the refrigerator and kissing her until she saw things his way).

Humming as inaudibly as he could to warm up his vocals, Jesse watched as the young woman made her way into the red doors to the theatre. Although he did his best to ignore the others' auditions, not only to be polite but also to avoid psyching himself out, Jesse couldn't help but notice that the female did a fantastic rendition of "Can't Help Lovin' That Man Of Mine." He also couldn't help but notice that both actors appeared to be quite a few years older than he was—the male had to be nearing his thirties. Jesse kept his eyes locked on the sheet music that now rested upon his knees—this was the last thing he needed to be doing just before an audition—and besides, age meant nothing in comparison to talent, he knew that firsthand.

Jesse felt his heart stop as the male exited the theatre and a woman who appeared to be in her early forties followed close behind him, extending a hand.

"Hi, Jesse?" she asked, and he nodded. "I'm Wendy. Glad you could make it," she added as he gathered his things and stood.

"Sorry I was late," Jesse admitted, and Wendy smiled.

"That's not a problem, we're running late too." Jesse felt a wave of relief as Wendy opened the door and he followed her into the theatre. Jesse followed the long, familiar processional of making his way down the aisle to the stage, and acknowledged the plethora of at least five people spread throughout the theatre that would watch his audition. He watched a man with a mop of curly dark hair and round glasses stand and extend his hand towards Jesse, and they shook hands pleasantly.

"Jesse St. James, sir," Jesse introduced himself, and the man beamed.

"Michael Ettinger," he said with a small nod. "We're glad you're here." E

"Thanks," Jesse took a deep breath, and Michael smiled back appreciatively.

"Whenever you're ready," he said, and Jesse made his way down to the man who sat at the upright piano at the base of the stage.

"How're you doing?" the man said brightly, and Jesse was surprised—usually audition pianists were downright cranky. "I'm Tim, by the way."

"Hi Tim, Jesse," he said, pulling out the sheet music.

"Oh this is a great song," he said genuinely, setting down to plunk out a few notes.

"What are you singing?" Michael called from the audience, and Jesse took a deep breath before turning to answer him.

"Losing My Religion," Jesse called back, and a smile crept onto Michael's face.

"Excellent." Jesse set the tempo with Tim and hopped onto the stage. He waited for everyone to appear ready, and nodded to Tim, beginning the song.

As he sang, Jesse began to lose himself in the music, his arms spread out to his sides with as much passion as he could muster. He wanted to prove his mother wrong, that he could do this, and he wanted to show Rachel that he had been right about his inklings to come here. As the final chords of the song rang out, Jesse could feel his entire body tingling with the soul and emotion he'd been able to put into that audition.

"Thanks," Michael said, and Jesse frowned uncomfortably. Was that it? He hopped of the stage and Tim handed him back the sheet music, smirking.

"Good job," he whispered, and Jesse thankfully nodded back. Satisfied, he marched back up the aisle and bid goodbye to Michael and Wendy, who informed him that anyone who would be called back would receive a phone call by the following week. Jesse departed the theatre, hopeful, and exited to a beautiful, sunny New York day.

* * *

Waiting for a callback is a lot like taking a pregnancy test. You'll be upset if you don't get it and thrilled if you do, but there's still that 1% chance you wouldn't even be pregnant. For Jesse, waiting for his callback was the most nerve-wracking time he could remember. Rachel was always working or training for ballet at the YMCA where she was using one of Nicky's guest passes, Jason was always at rehearsal, and Taryn and Seth slept most of the days away. Jesse got into the habit of looking at his phone even when he was sure it hadn't gone off, and he jumped every time it _would _ring.

"You need to relax," Rachel told him through the phone lines one day when he'd answered her call like a madman. "If this is meant to happen it will happen, but you can't push it. I was calling to ask if you wanted anything, I'm going to stop by the grocer's on the way back from the studio."

"We cavemen are craving meat," Jesse admitted, referring to the nickname Taryn had given he and Jason because of their un-vegetarian tendencies. Rachel giggled, and Jesse could imagine her shaking her head.

"I'll pick you up some frozen burgers or something. Happy?" she asked, and Jesse grinned. He had the most wonderful girlfriend he could have asked for, and he was truly unsure what he did to deserve it.

"You're great," he gushed.

"I know. You're totally going to owe me a shoulder rub though," she retorted, and Jesse laughed.

"Saw that one coming."

"I'll see you when I get back then. Love you!" Rachel had hung up before he could respond, and Jesse threw the phone on the countertop, returning to the fridge, where he'd been searching for a beverage. When the phone went off again, he picked it up and calmly flipped it open using his chin.

"I love you too Rachel."

"Um, is this Jesse St. James?" an unfamiliar female voice responded. Jesse stood up, hitting his head off the corner of the freezer.

"Oh fuck—er, I mean yes! Sorry, ow, sorry. I just hit my head. Ow. Sorry. Yes, this is he?" Jesse winced. He was making a complete ass out of himself. The woman on the line giggled, however, and Jesse prayed that was a good sign.

"Well don't kill yourself, St. James. This is Wendy from the "Chess" auditions. We're going to need you to come down Thursday morning at ten for a callback, would that be possible?" Jesse's heart was racing.

"Agh…absolutely!" he stammered. "Wow, oh my god, thank you."

"Of course, now this doesn't guarantee you a role, and I will warn you it's a pretty minor call back, but if you're interested we'll see you Thursday."

"I…wow. Oh my god, thank you Wendy." Jesse ran a hand through his hair, astonished.

"You're welcome. Oh and Jesse?"

"Yes?"

"Whoever Rachel is, she's a lucky girl." He could almost hear Wendy smirk as she hung up the phone, and Jesse sank to the ground right in the middle of the kitchen, completely dazed. His head snapped up as he heard the front door unlocking, and he scrambled to his feet, rushing to the door. It swung open as Rachel juggled her keys, gym bag, and two bags of groceries, one of which she could barely see over. Jesse took both bags from her, set them on the counter, and wrapped his arms around the brunette, kissing her forcefully.

"Jesse, there are perishables," she protested, but Jesse took the gym bag from her shoulder and threw it to the sofa, pulling her quickly towards their bedroom.

"But the burgers," Rachel protested, clearly flustered. Jesse smirked and kissed her neck.

"Screw the burgers," he mumbled into her ear, sliding a hand under her oversized sweatshirt and onto the small of her back, under the crossed portions of the back of her leotard.

"Jesse, what's gotten into you?" she questioned as he nipped at her shoulder, causing her to squirm.

"I got a callback," he explained. They were up against the doorframe now, Rachel's hair falling out of her tight dance bun.

"See? I told you!" she squealed, but Jesse was preoccupied with pulling her towards their bed. "Jesse, please!" she protested, and Jesse pouted.

"I want to celebrate Rach," he kissed her ear, and she shifted.

"But the groceries…" she muttered weakly as Jesse pressed his lips to hers, pulling her down so she was straddling his lap as they sat on the edge of the bed.

"The groceries can wait baby," Jesse promised, kissing her forehead as he pulled the oversized sweatshirt over her head. Rachel made a noise of protest, and then of bliss as Jesse covered her neck and shoulders with kisses. There was a collision of lips, and Rachel had Jesse pinned to the bed. Kissing Rachel was different than kissing anyone else, Jesse had noted. She was gentle and timid, but he was in her hands. As he began attempting to remove her sweatpants, she broke the lip lock, panting.

"Jesse, not now, please. I'm sweaty and…this just isn't how I picture it," she pouted, and frustrated, Jesse rested his head on the bed, heaving a dramatic sigh. "Don't be a boy," Rachel scowled. Jesse glanced to her apologetically.

"I'm not trying to be Rach, you know that. It's just…you look really good. You know that," he reached towards her and brushed a stray strand behind her ear. "And sometimes I…I guess I act like any other teenage guy," Jesse shrugged. "I know you deserve epic romance, and I'm sorry that sometimes I turn into a horny douche," Jesse admitted, embarrassed. Rachel sat up and looked down at the frustrated Jesse, and giggled.

"You got a callback," she reminded him, and he nodded, breaking into a wide grin.

"Yeah, I did," he remembered. "Thursday." He frowned as she stood, retrieved the sweatshirt he had thrown, and went toward the door. "Where are you going?" he asked, pouting.

"I'm rescuing your burgers, since no one did it _before_ they were slaughtered." Jesse watched Rachel as she left the bedroom and he couldn't help but smile after her-life really was going great.

* * *

A/N: I promise you, they WILL have sex eventually-Rachel's just a perfectionist! Lol.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Another (pretty big) update today! Thank you all for your support, I couldn't do it without you! =D R&R please!

* * *

Jesse felt that his callback went well. It was clear it wasn't for a major part, but Jesse was completely fine with this. It was unlike any callback he'd heard or experienced, however. He sight read the piece they requested of him, and then performed the same piece in a large group, which ended up sounding much more like a choir than the cast of a musical. He was confident, but didn't want to be _over_confident, so he left the callbacks with mixed emotions. He knew Rachel was picking up a day shift at the bar, so he walked home slowly. He considered stopping at Starbucks, but was well aware his caffeine addiction had to come to a grinding halt soon, otherwise he would deplete the cash flow he had before even making it into a show. As he shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans, he frowned. He must have left his phone at home, because it wasn't in his pocket. That was unusual for him—he lived like that phone was just another appendage on his body. He turned the corner idly—the theatre wasn't _that _far from the apartment, and frankly, Jesse enjoyed the exercise. He wasn't as extreme as Rachel with her six-AM jogs, but he wasn't dancing much these days, and he felt that he was at least doing a little bit by walking everywhere. Jesse hated that he didn't dance much now, but Nicky only had one visitor's pass for the Y, and there just wasn't the room in the living room. Jesse supposed that he could have purchased passes, as he and Rachel would clearly use them, but—

"Hey pretty boy."

Jesse's head snapped up, startled from his reverie. He was face to face with a grungy looking man who couldn't be much older than Jason, but the glare he wore aged him quite a few years.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention at all," Jesse apologized, and moved to let the man through. The man just stared and followed Jesse's movements, and Jesse immediately felt an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach. He glanced around casually—he wasn't familiar at _all _with his location.

"Look, here's how it's gonna go James Dean," the mugger began, and despite the awful situation he was facing, Jesse found himself surprised the man even knew who James Dean was. "You're gonna give me your money and anything you got valuable, or I'll kick your ass." Jesse felt a surge of fear sweep through him—he was still a little anxious after the Vocal Adrenaline incident—and, as though to solidify his terror, Jesse watched the man pull out a short switchblade to emphasize his point. Jesse handed the man his wallet, removing his license on the sly and being ever so thankful he didn't own a credit card and wasn't carrying his cell phone.

"Here, here! That's all I have dude," Jesse said, keeping his hands in the air. "I'm too broke to own a cell phone," he lied, and the man stepped forward menacingly.

"I don't believe you. Empty your pockets. _All of them!" _he shouted, and Jesse did as he was told, wincing in terror. When the man saw that he truly didn't have anything else, he let out a low hissing noise and began to rummage through the wallet. Jesse was quite sure he wasn't carrying more than twenty-five dollars at best, but the man seemed satisfied enough. Shoving Jesse's wallet into the gray hoodie he wore (which Jesse couldn't comprehend—it was at _least _eighty-five degrees out) he stepped forward threateningly once more, holding the knife towards Jesse.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take care of you anyway?" the man breathed, and Jesse's heart was thundering. He couldn't handle being attacked again—especially on unfamiliar city streets and without a cell phone. He said nothing, however, just kept his eyes squeezed shut and begged for it to just be over already.

Jesse had never really contemplated what it would be like to die—as a teenager he had genuinely considered himself invincible. He'd taken many stupid joyrides with drunken Vocal Adrenaline members. He didn't give much of a care about what he did as long as he was enjoying himself. But now, the only thing he could think of was what would happen to Rachel. Would she go back to Lima? Would she move on and date Finn, or maybe even Puck? Would she bury him here because she knew it was his heart's desire, or would she ship him back to Ohio? Jesse's eyes snapped open as he felt the man grab his wrist, and Jesse chewed on his tongue, praying he wouldn't start to cry—he couldn't _cry _while he was being mugged—that would be an abandonment of all dignity. "Look here, pretty boy. You don't tell _anyone _about this, got it? You don't say nothin' to nobody, and I won't come and get you in your sleep. Got it?" Jesse nodded meekly. "Go! Get your ass outta my sight." The man pushed him away, and Jesse took off in a sprint.

He wasn't fully aware of where he was going until he rushed into the bar. Rachel was cleaning off tables and she looked up, surprised.

"Jesse what—" she began, but he already had his arms wrapped around her and was sobbing into her shoulder before she could finish. She led him to a booth and sat him down, getting a glass of water and saying nothing as she let him cry. After a few moments of silence, she looked to him from her position on his lap, and kissed the corner of his eye where the tears were leaking. "Audition was that bad, hmm?" she asked, and Jesse stared at her incredulously.

"Rachel I just almost fucking _died. _Do you really think I'd be this worked up over a fucking musical?" he was in shock, and Rachel appeared taken aback.

"You…what?" she asked, and Jesse was shaking.

"I was mugged and he threatened to _kill _me Rachel. I don't give two shits about that musical, I could have _died._" Jesse repeated, and Rachel shifted uncomfortably.

"Stop saying that," she whispered, and Jesse slammed his fist on the table.

"It's true though! He would have killed me, Rach, and it pains me to think what someone could do to _you._ I don't want you running in the morning anymore—"

"Jesse," Rachel began to protest, but his voice was firm.

"No, Rachel. I cannot be responsible if something happens to you. You're not running in the morning anymore, and I don't want you coming to work alone. If that means you can't do weekday shifts than so be it."

"Jesse you're being paranoid," Rachel argued, but Jesse was hearing none of it.

"If being paranoid means I'm keeping you safe, then fine, I'm being paranoid," he growled.

"Jesse, not everyone in New York City is going to be out to get us—"

"But there are ones that are!" Jesse couldn't understand why she wasn't grasping the concept that he wanted her to stay safe. "Look, will you _please _just promise me that you'll stay with me, Jason, Taryn, or Seth at all times?" Jesse asked, and Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"What about Nicky?" she asked, and Jesse looked over to the man who was pretending to clean glasses but was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. "Fine, Nicky too. But you're never alone. Promise me." Rachel gave him one final look, and Jesse scowled. "_Promise me, _Rachel."

"I promise."

* * *

It was a long week and a half before Rachel's "Billy Elliot" audition. Rachel didn't change her schedule whatsoever—she was still up by 6 with her protein shake, but instead of jogging she now did sit ups and Pilates in the living room. She went back to working nights, and when Jesse couldn't walk there and back with her, Seth or Taryn did, although they too tried to convince him that what happened was a one-time occurrence, and it was because of the location of the theatre. Jesse, however, didn't back down—and he also hadn't heard from "Chess" yet. True they had mentioned that it could be up to two weeks before he heard anything, but it was getting startlingly close.

Jesse walked with Rachel to her audition that morning. She was shaking, but Jesse assured her everything would be fine. She had her ballet shoes slung over one shoulder, and a backpack with her sheet music and a bottle of water. She refused to change her audition song; she felt that it might curse her.

"You're going to be wonderful," he assured her, kissing her just before she entered the theatre. He had agreed he'd wait outside for her and then they would walk back to the apartment together—Jesse was just too wary to let her do anything on her own. Jesse's mind began to wander, and he found himself contemplating what would happen if she had another failed audition? Jesse didn't want to give up hope, but he knew she was serious about her promise that she would return to Lima if nothing came up by the middle of August. It was the beginning of July now, and the next audition she was willing to attend wasn't until the end of the month. That left very little time for her to find something if the next two didn't work out—Jesse couldn't think about it, however. It was too much stress, and he was already internalizing enough pressure with making sure nothing happened to her and worrying about staying together with her and trying to assure they would both be successful—

Jesse's phone went off his pocket, startling him slightly. He glanced around to assure no one would try to mug him, and he answered the call quietly.

"Hello?"

"Jesse? It's Wendy again, from the "Chess" auditions." Jesse's heart began to race.

"Wendy, hi!" he responded, gripping the edge of the bench he sat on for dear life.

"I apologize that we're so late getting back to you Jesse. If you're still available, we have a part for you as a choir member and a chess piece. I do believe you mentioned that you do ballet?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm classically trained," he spoke breathlessly into the phone, terrified to blink for fear that it would be a dream.

"That's great, that's really just great Jesse. We're super excited to have you on board, and we'll be meeting on Monday. I know this is really last minute but I hope you enjoy your last weekend of Freedom before our rehearsals start!" Wendy laughed, but Jesse was completely aware she was serious when she spoke of it being his last free weekend.

"Wendy I can't even express to you how much this means to me," Jesse began, but Wendy stopped him.

"Save it for a Christmas card, St. James," she said, and Jesse was surprised by her sudden authority. "I will see you on Monday at 9AM sharp, and be sure to dress so you can dance. Have a good weekend Jesse," she's said, hanging up the phone immediately after. Jesse sat in a stunned silence for a moment—he had a part. He had a real, paying part, and like Jason, his name would at least be in the Playbill. It was a start, I mean true that it was an Off-Broadway production, but it could be picked up; it could become a big deal—that was _precisely _what he needed. Looking to his phone, he got an idea.

"Hey douchebag, call me when you're out of rehearsal. I remember you saying tomorrow is one of your last days off, and so we're doing tonight in style—I have some news. So get your shit together, we're going out when you come home." Jesse left the voicemail on Jason's phone and sat, anxiously waiting for Rachel to exit the theatre.

Rachel didn't say much when she came out of the audition—but she was in _much _better spirits than she had been after "Fiddler," so Jesse took this as a good thing and crossed his fingers and toes.

"So we're going out tonight," he said casually as they walked back, Rachel's bag on his shoulder and their fingers laced.

"I work, Jesse," Rachel protested, and Jesse shrugged.

"We'll go to Nicky's then. Although I'm sure he'll give you the night off if you ask."

"Jesse I can't just ask off work so I can hang out," she told him pointedly, and Jesse smirked.

"Yeah but you're celebrating."

"Celebrating?" Rachel asked, clearly confused.

"Yeah well it's not every day you live in an apartment with two paid actors," Jesse said coolly, and Rachel's eyes widened. She let out a squeal and nearly tackled him on the street, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He spun her slightly and when her feet touched ground again, she put her hands on her hips.

"When were you going to tell me?" she asked, looking offended. "How long have you known?" Here I've been all worried for you—"

"Rach I literally got the call while you were in the audition. It's insane," Jesse's heart was throbbing. "I'm in the choir and I'm a chess piece, whatever that means," he shrugged. Rachel did a little dance and hugged him one more time before taking his hand and continuing their journey home.

"Oh Nicky will definitely let me off for this," she cooed.

* * *

They sat, packed like sardines in their usual booth at Nicky's. Jesse had to practically _drag _Rachel out of the apartment, as she insisted she had to wear "celebration clothes," and couldn't decide which pair of socks matched better. The bar was crowded, and the 5 of them shared a plate of nachos that Nicky insisted were "on the house. "

"It's not every day I have two real actors in my bar," he smirked, and although Rachel had made a face, she'd said nothing.

"C'mon Nicky, it's not even that big of a part," Jesse said, but he and Jason glanced at one another, and then fist-bumped across the table. Nicky rolled his eyes at the boys, and quickly walked to another table that was flagging him down.

"I'm going to get a part too," Rachel mumbled, but no one heard her over the noise of the bar. Seth stood, nodding to the boys.

"Drinks for our celebrities," he said, gallivanting towards the bar. Rachel scowled again as Jesse and Jason laughed.

"Dude when am I going to get to see the show if I'm always in "Wicked"? Jason asked, and Jesse ran a hand through his hair casually.

"You've got time, dude. I mean we're going to be off-Broadway for awhile I bet." Jesse thanked Seth as he handed the boys drinks, and Rachel narrowed her eyes when she wasn't offered anything. This time, however, Jesse noticed the face his girlfriend made, and smirked.

"You can share with me babe," he whispered, kissing her cheek. Rachel smiled at him thankfully, but then continued staring off into the distance.

"So how do you boys want to celebrate your big breaks?" Taryn asked, sipping on a tall, fruity looking drink. Jesse furrowed his brow, thinking, but Jason was distracted by something on the opposite side of the room.

"_I _want to talk to that cute little redhead over there," he said, running a hand through his hair. "How's my plaid?" he asked, nodding down to the button down he wore. Seth and Taryn started laughing, while Jesse nodded.

"You're good man. Oh wait, take the beer. And remember, if she has a boyfriend, _walk away,_" Jesse instructed. Jason rolled his eyes.

"Just because there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't score," Jason winked, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Oh that's disgusting," she muttered as Jesse laughed heartily. Taryn hushed him, and the group watched from afar as Jason attempted to pick up the young redhead at the bar. Things appeared to be going well, until a burly dark haired man came out of the crowd, approaching the two of them. He appeared to confront Jason, who was clearly attempting to come up with some excuse, and it looked as though the man was threatening Jason—until Nicky distracted the man with a beer on the house and Jason ran away back to the booth. Upon his return, Taryn, Seth, and Jesse began applauding, and Jason put up his middle finger in response.

"Looks like that goalie got you pretty hard there, Jason," Jesse smirked.

"Fuck all of you."

After his encounter with the redhead and her boyfriend, Jason drank a little more excessively than he had intended. In fact, everyone seemed to be testing the limits—even Rachel, who had finally insisted to Jason "she too be allowed to partake in the gallivanting," so Jason got her the same fruity drink as Taryn, who by now had downed two and a half. Rachel had made the same pained and disgusted face she did every time she first sipped an alcoholic beverage, but she soldiered through. The bar had become increasingly crowded, and the weekend rush included lots and lots of young women who Jason was trying to gear himself up to speak to.

"What about that blonde one?" Jason asked them nervously. "I could have a chance with her, right?" Everyone glanced at one another, unsure what to say, and Jason put his forehead to the table, frustrated.

"Look dude, your sights are just a little high," Jesse tried to soothe him, and Taryn nodded, leaning over to pat Jason on the shoulder.

"You just need to do something to make them notice you!" she suggested.

"Like what?" Jason whimpered from the table.

"Dance!" Rachel suggested cheerily. Jason looked up to her meekly.

"Oh yeah because every girl is attracted to a guy who fouetté jeté's across the room," he scowled. Rachel giggled and looked to Jesse.

"I was," she gushed as Jesse smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Okay you guys are like the freak of nature exception," Jason scowled, setting his forehead back onto the table. Rachel wore an offended expression, which went unnoticed as the bar broke into cheers as a familiar piano and harmonica intro began. Jesse groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Can someone _please _explain to me why everyone thinks it's okay to sing this song?" he asked, and Rachel nodded.

"Better yet, can someone please tell me how everyone knows the lyrics?" she asked, practically unheard over the screams of people shouting, _"He says, 'Son can you play me a memory.'"_ Jason's head snapped straight up from the table, a gleam in his eye.

"That's it!" he shouted, jumping from the booth and running towards the bar where Nicky served drinks. Nick got a suspicious look in his eye, but eventually nodded, pointing at the crowd. Jason nodded, but still appeared pleased, and then disappeared into the crowd.

"Where'd he go?" Rachel asked, and Jesse shook his head.

"I'm not sure…" he frowned, but they didn't have much time to worry about it as Taryn and Seth were now standing on the booth benches, singing the chorus of "Piano Man" at the top of their lungs," attracting a rather large crowd of their fans.

"Oh are you kidding right now," Rachel complained, and Jesse just laughed.

"It is a pretty catchy song, and we're hanging out with bar band royalty," he argued, Rachel crossed her arms, and Jesse took another sip of his drink. Seth caught his eye, and held out a hand.

"C'mon dude," he said as Taryn and the rest of the bar sang about some guy named Davey in the navy. "You only get your first official casting once, right?" Glancing over at the unenthused Rachel, Jesse bit his lip and shrugged, standing on the booth with Seth and Taryn.

"Oh no," Rachel muttered. "No you've got to be joking," she sighed, putting her face in her hands as Jesse belted out the lyrics to the next verse.

They continued for the remainder of the song, Rachel attempting to hide from the world and Jesse belting the song out drunkenly with the rest of the bar, forgetting all his inhibitions and pretentious behaviors of the past. As the song drew to a close, the bar erupted into cheers, and Jesse jumped from the table, laughing. He punched Rachel softly in the arm, giggling.

"Aw c'mon Rach, live a little!"

"I do live!" she protested. "I just think buying into such a bureaucratic system where it's acceptable to drunkenly sing a song that should be reserved for Billy Joel is outrageous," Rachel pouted. Jesse rolled his eyes and kissed the girl on the cheek.

"I'm sorry babe, I just had to get it out of my system," he begged.

"I don't know if I can forgive yo—" she was interrupted by a thunderous piano-and-guitar intro, and both she and Jesse jumped, startled. It was far different than the casual introduction of Piano Man, and it caused every head in the bar to turn.

"Oh I _love _Meatloaf!" Rachel gushed. From across the table, Seth furrowed his brow.

"I thought you were a vegan?" he tilted his head, a glazed look in his eyes. Rachel rolled her eyes furiously, while Jesse's beer nearly came out of his nose. As the music slowed, they were startled—it wasn't Meatloaf's voice that came echoing throughout the bar, but Jason's. There he stood, screaming the lyrics into a microphone, and as the music picked up he began to flail across the stage. The patrons of the bar instantly began cheering and singing along, and the four who remained at the table catcalled.

"Come on!" Rachel shouted, grabbing Jesse's hand and dragging him through the crowd towards the stage. They stood rather close, egging on their friend as he jumped on top of unplugged amplifiers and picked up the entire microphone stand as opposed to just the microphone itself. Jesse had to admit that watching Jason perform was interesting—he sang with an intensity that was usually reserved for rock singers and not those involved in musical theatre, yet somehow it worked. Jesse had to admit that he was curious how such a combination would work in something as mainstream as Wicked, but Jason _had_ been cast, so it wasn't his place to question.

Beads of sweat were visible on Jason's forehead as he whirled back and forth across the stage, girls screaming as he gave them a wink or a nod.

"He's really working this crowd," Jesse acknowledged, and Rachel nodded.

"He's certainly got their attention now," she tilted her head towards the throng of screaming women. He was currently spinning in a circle, the microphone cord tangling around his legs as he went; the microphone stand in the air beside him. His performance had been going on for five minutes at least, and the music finally began to slow. As he leaned on an unused amp for support, Rachel began belting the female part from where she stood beside the stage. Looking excited (and somewhat thankful) Jason rushed over to her and pulled her onstage, handing her the microphone. She looked apprehensive at first, shaking her head as he approached, but he nodded encouragingly, and the audience broke into another round of cheers. Jesse watched excitedly as his girlfriend continued to belt the lyrics and Jason plugged in another microphone. Jesse had to admit the two had exceptional vocals when performing together, but he was adamant about the fact that her voice blended the best when _they _were performing together. Rachel and Jason finished out the song together, and the bar broke out into (albeit drunken) raucous applause. Rachel was beaming, Jason was drenched in sweat, and Jesse stood off to the side, clapping like a proud soccer mom. As the bar began shouting for an encore, Jason shook his head—it was clear he was completely drained from his exuberant performance, but he glanced quickly to Rachel, smirking.

"I can't guys, you wore me out!" Jason explained to the bargoers, who began quickly jeering and shouting in frustration. "Wait, wait. Keep your damn pants on. I was going to suggest, who'd like to hear this beautiful young lady perform something on her own?" he asked, pointing to Rachel. As the patrons (mostly men) shouted loudly in agreement, Rachel shook her head, looking terrified. Jesse watched her argue with Jason, the microphones far from their faces, until she finally rolled her eyes and nodded. Applause thundered throughout the room as Rachel broke into a wide grin, turning a soft shade of pink under the lights of the stage.

"I'm completely unprepared," she muttered, in a vain attempt to avoid the microphone being shoved into her face. She cleared her throat, evidently flustered, and began again, much more professional this time. "Patrons of Nicky's, I'd like to thank you for allowing me this opportunity to perform for you all. Although performing showtunes and musical theatre is my strongest suit, I have chosen tonight to perform another Billy Joel piece that I feel is much more relatable than the previously butchered Piano Man, and whose message has transcended through time and still resonates with the youth of America today. This piece has also been performed by my personal idol, who worked as a nightclub performer when she was just barely in her early teens and went on—" Jesse cleared his throat loudly from the side of the stage, shaking his head slightly and giving Rachel a warning look.

"Right," she continued, licking her lips and reddening slightly. "Ladies and Gentleman, I give you "New York State of Mind," she said, and several cat-calls echoed throughout the bar at the mention of the song. As the karaoke track began, Jesse watched Rachel bite her lip, aware that she was simply terrified that the audience wouldn't enjoy her rendition.

Her fears were futile, however, because the moment she opened her mouth, an awed hush fell over the bar. It was amazing how Rachel could captivate a room. Where the bar had been buzzing and active during Jason's performance, you could hear a pin drop while Rachel sang—every eye in the room didn't dare deviate from the powerhouse that was the tiny brunette. Jason approached from behind Jesse, finally seeming to have recovered from his intense performance.

"They love her," Jason noted, and Jesse smiled, nodding.

"She was born to be a star."

* * *

A/N: I hated to put Jesse in another life-threatening situation, but it had to be done! =[ Thankfully he's okay though! Also, jealous!Rachel is far too fun to write!


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: I can't tell you how much all of your responses have meant to me. Reviews are lovely!

* * *

The following morning, no one really remembered much. They had left shortly after Rachel's performance because Seth had passed out drunkenly in the booth and Taryn wanted them to get home, and everyone was nursing moderate to severe hangovers. Although neither Jesse nor Rachel had been sick, they had overheard Jason make a run for the bathroom in the middle of the night, so everyone lazed about that day. Jason was draped across the sofa, arm across his forehead and bottle of water between his legs, groaning.

"I was going to go dance at four," he complained, his gray hooded sweatshirt pulled up over his hair and stretching over his eyes.

"Well you should have thought of that before you ran around the stage like a dervish," Taryn pointed out as she (bravely) made the boys eggs. "Rachel there's wheat toast in the toaster, dear," she said as Rachel stumbled sleepily out of the bedroom. Jesse poured himself a large cup of coffee and sat next to Jason, glancing down at the ailing boy.

"Is Seth not up yet?" Rachel asked, settling in her usual armchair with a glass of orange juice and a piece of toast. Taryn shook her head.

"He's a bit ill this morning as well. Heard him heaving in our toilet at about four, so lord only knows when he'll emerge," she shrugged.

"I still can't believe you let me sing "New York State of Mind" in a room full of New Yorkers!" Rachel exclaimed, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Rach they loved you," he pointed out. Taryn nodded from the stove.

"You were amazing…I mean at least from what I noticed, that was right about when Seth conked out," she furrowed her brow pointedly. Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, that's not happening again," she stated. "I've got to put all my energy into "Billy Elliot,"" she explained, and Jason lifted his head.

"Wait you got a callback already? I thought you just auditioned?" he asked, clearly confused. Rachel shrugged.

"Well no, but I'm feeling really good about this audition," she explained, and Jason rolled his eyes, groaned, and put his arm back over his face.

"Can someone get me an Advil?" he asked.

* * *

Monday morning, Jesse left for his first day of music with Chess around 7. He kissed Rachel goodbye and made her promise to spend her time wisely, which she pleasantly agreed to, and he departed for the theatre, taking an alternate route than he had taken before. Jesse was a member of the choir, who actually took up quite a large part of the introduction of the show, as well as a chess piece, in which he did some intricate ballet, which he would learn at a later date. Today would focus solely upon sight reading the pieces and getting everyone acquainted with the show—they wouldn't even be seeing the leads in this rehearsal. Jesse had to admit, it felt good to be a part of something again—as much as he disliked what Vocal Adrenaline had become, he adored performing.

This became routine—wake up, go to rehearsal, come home and ask if Rachel had gotten a callback, assure her it would happen soon, eat, practice, and sleep. Jesse had always been busy in high school, so he adored the constant schedule. His first paycheck helped as well—it wasn't much, but it was still _something. _

The problem, however, was that it wasn't quite enough. Between the memberships he had finally splurged on for himself and Rachel to get adequate exercise, plus his monthly rent (which had been lessened greatly after Rachel insisted she pay her share) chipping in for food, and blowing money at the copy center to get headshots printed up, Jesse had to admit he was barely scraping by, and he had to find some way to make enough money to feel that he was living a comfortable life.

Jesse had been working on Chess for two weeks when he came home, simply exhausted, and crashed onto the couch. He had no idea of Rachel's work schedule anymore—he'd insisted she take shifts where Nicky or _someone _could walk her back and forth, but who knew if she was actually following his suggestion. Thus, he was slightly startled when he saw her tiny form exiting the bathroom, wearing her furry pink bathrobe and dabbing at her wet hair with a towel.

"Jesse! You're back early," she marveled, and then glanced at the stove clock. "Or I showered for a really long time. Wow," she seemed shocked. Jesse laughed and patted the sofa. She curled up next to him, pulling the bathrobe a little tighter, and he laid his head on her shoulder.

"I miss you," he said honestly, and Rachel smiled.

"I miss you too Jesse," she admitted, cuddling closer.

"Any word?" he asked hopefully, and she shook her head miserably.

"Nope," she sighed. "And I heard "Sweet Caroline" at the bar today and thought of Noah," she sighed dramatically. Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"That was the song he sang to me when we dated," Rachel admitted, and Jesse snorted.

"Okay really? Your name's not even Caroline," he rolled his eyes, and Rachel scowled, crossing her arms.

"You know Noah, he's not exactly Julliard material. He tried his best. I thought it was sweet," she pouted, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. So you heard the song?"

"Yeah. I keep meaning to call him but whenever I do he says he's busy or he's out with my mother—"

"Wow."

"Not like that!" Rachel swatted Jesse's arm. "He's visiting with Beth, he really wants her to have a father figure in her life."

"Oh Mr. Schuester's not filling that role already?" Jesse questioned, and Rachel scowled again.

"Jesse can we please not speak about my mother's love life? Please?"

"Fine, fine." Jesse stretched. Rachel shifted awkwardly.

"Jesse," she began, and he opened his eyes, glancing at her.

"Yes?"

"Jesse…I think someone may have stolen the car," she admitted finally, and he began to laugh, sitting up.

"Rach, babe. No one stole the car."

"Yes they did! I went for my walk today—I don't go very far, please don't get upset! But yeah, I went for my walk and it wasn't in the spot it's usually in and I looked all over and I couldn't find it!" she looked guilty, as though it were her fault, and Jesse just laughed.

"No babe, no one stole the car. I sold it."

"You what?" Rachel asked breathlessly.

"I sold the car. I mean it's not doing us any good, right?" he shrugged, reaching for the television remote. Rachel grabbed his arm to stop him; she appeared to be in a great state of panic.

"Jesse, how could you sell the car? How are we going to get home?"

"What are you talking about Rachel?" Jesse was puzzled. Rachel put a hand to her face, clearly torn.

"Jesse you promised me that if things didn't work out we'd go back home."

"Yeah, and things worked out," Jesse said pointedly, and Rachel's jaw dropped.

"Yes, for you!" she explained. "But I'm still jobless, Jesse, in case you hadn't noticed, and I can't believe you sold the car!"

"Rachel it's no big deal! You're going to get that part—"

"They posted a cast list, Jesse. I'm not on it," Rachel spat. Jesse was surprised, but he blinked a few times and nodded.

"Right. Well you still have one more audition on your definites list, don't you?"

"That's not the point, Jesse! You sold the car without even checking if it would be okay with me!"

"It's not your car!" Jesse shot back. Rachel rolled her eyes and looked away from him, clearly upset. Jesse couldn't understand what he'd done wrong or why she was so upset—it _wasn't _her car, and it wasn't like he had trapped her here.

"Jesse I just don't understand. I thought this was just like, I don't know. I thought this would be fun and then we'd go back to normal life," Rachel shrugged. Jesse stared incredulously at the naïve girl beside him.

"Rachel, you've got to be kidding me. I thought you were serious about this!"

"I am, but Jesse, it just doesn't seem realistic now!" she pouted. "You're really going to give up on a free ride to UCLA so you can be in the choir of an off-Broadway show?" she asked, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Yes, _mother, _I am!" he spat. Rachel scowled and stormed off into the bedroom, slamming the door. Jesse rubbed his temples and followed her. "Rach," he said as he opened the door and found her sitting on the bed, arms crossed furiously. "Baby," he muttered, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry."

"Jesse I'm scared," she mumbled. "What if I never get famous?" Jesse bit his lip to keep from laughing, and he kissed the girl's forehead.

"But you will. You're amazing, Rachel Berry."

"Well no one seems to think so!" Rachel protested. Jesse hugged her tightly again and smiled.

"That's because none of these were the part for you. I promise you, Rach. You're going to be cast in the perfect role for you, and it's going to be amazing," he whispered, and Rachel sighed.

"You really think so?"

"It's inevitable," Jesse grinned, and Rachel smiled softly.

"Can we watch Funny Girl?"

"Again?" Jesse asked, amazed. Rachel pouted.

"It's my favorite movie…" she explained, and Jesse sighed.

"Fine."

* * *

A few days later, dance rehearsals began. Jesse was slightly rusty when it came to ballet, but he picked it up again quickly enough. His partner was a tall, skinny blonde girl, and it was quite different than dancing with Rachel, which he was used to. She was rather judgmental, and she rolled her eyes every time he made even the slightest mistake. She had just stormed off, insisting that the lift they had just done was "utterly inadequate," and the choreographer decided they needed to take a short break. Jesse rushed over to his bag, where he downed half a bottle of water, and then quickly checked his phone. He was startled to see a text from Rachel—she knew that he was in rehearsal and wouldn't get messages right away. He was even more surprised when it requested he come to the bar after rehearsal instead of going home, and Jesse was confused—she had to know he couldn't gallivant with intense rehearsals every day—but rather than face her wrath, he simply shot her a text back that he would stop over. Perhaps she just needed someone to walk her home—Jesse had been fairly lenient about that since being cast, and he felt rather guilty. When Marishka (his dance partner) finally finished diva-ing out, they went back to rehearsal, and Jesse's mind quickly left the text message in the past.

It wasn't until he was leaving that night at nearly 9PM that he remembered. He called her phone but she didn't answer, which worried him slightly, so he left at a brisk sprint until he got to Nicky's. Nicky was near the door when Jesse rushed in, and he looked extremely relieved to see her.

"Oh man, I screwed up," Nicky said, and Jesse frowned, wondering _what _the man could mean, his mind immediately flashing to harassment lawsuits. But before Jesse's mind could wander too far, Nicky motioned for him to follow, and the two men made their way to the opposite side of the bar, where Nicky's infamous "Wall of Signatures" stood. He pointed to an image on the wall, and Jesse's eyes widened. There, in all her curly haired, red-lipsticked glory was Rachel—only it wasn't Rachel, it just looked identical. And under the faded photograph was a little piece of paper that read "Shelby Corcoran" and featured a messily scribbled star. Jesse looked to Nicky, who appeared sheepish.

"I had no idea it was her daughter," Nicky said truthfully. "I had no idea Shelby even _had _a daughter. I just thought it was some miracle that this girl showed up in my bar who happened to look identical to the Shelbster."

"The Shelbster?" Jesse asked, raising an eyebrow. Nicky laughed and motioned for Jesse to sit down.

"Shelby and I were roommates," Nicky explained. "She helped me open the place up, really; she was the first one on the wall," he laughed. "She was amazing, a truly great performer, and when I heard Rachel sing that night, I started thinking. I thought it couldn't be possible—that there was no way, but I couldn't be sure. So I went through my things and found an old performance of Shelby's, and then waited until we were slow enough that I could ask Rachel, and…well…she's in the back room watching the performance. She's watched it at least like, six times," Nicky sighed, and Jesse furrowed his brow.

"Where's the back room?" he asked, and Nicky pointed. Jesse moved slowly back, and found Rachel sitting in front of an ancient-looking television set, eyes glued upon the same woman with the overly curly hair and overly red lips.

"Rachel?" Jesse said, and she jumped, clearly startled.

"It's my mom," she said, pointing to the TV, where the woman seemed to be putting her entire heart and soul into…whatever it was she was doing; she appeared to be jumping around and hitting a cowbell at the moment. The recording was severely out of tune; Jesse could only assume it was just about 15 years old.

"I see that," Jesse nodded. "Rachel, babe, why do you keep watching it?" he asked, and Rachel sighed.

"She couldn't do it Jesse. She's immensely talented and she gives it her all, but she couldn't do it." Jesse sighed, knelt in front of Rachel, and turned off the tape.

"Rachel, listen to me. Your mother gave up. You know she told me you were her only regret? Despite everything, despite the fact that she gave up, she didn't regret it. And neither should you, Rach. You are going to do this, I know it," he whispered, leaning up to kiss her.

"You really think so?" Rachel asked him, and Jesse laughed.

"You keep saying that, and how many times do I have to tell you? I know it's going to happen." Jesse took her hands, and Rachel smiled, nodding. "So promise me you'll do this one more audition?"

"Okay," Rachel smiled, and Jesse grinned.

"And promise me you'll stop worrying about what your mother did?" Rachel nodded.

"Good. Now can we go home please? I'm beat. My dance partner is a total bitch."

* * *

A/N: I had to throw the Maureen reference in there, I mean come on!


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Double update! I just can't help it, I want to get as much of the story to you as I can before I go back to uni and hardly have time to write! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and hopefully the big moment doesn't let you down TOO much!

* * *

Jesse had never really faced the dilemma of being too busy before. Even in high school, most of the girlfriend's he'd had were also in Vocal Adrenaline, so time was of no issue, and when he'd dated Rachel he'd been at McKinley. So this was unlike anything he'd ever experienced—he would wake up early and get home late, barely having any time to talk to his girlfriend or hang out with his roommates. His meal schedule also became severely messed up, and finally he returned to his high school routine of protein shakes, nutrition bars, and Red Bull, a diet that had never failed him in the past. He felt terrible when Rachel caught a cold, but he couldn't risk getting sick himself, and spent those few days sleeping on the sofa, leaving the poor girl to fend for herself. He hadn't seen Jason in weeks since their busy rehearsal schedules seemed to overlap, and he only saw Seth because he was usually just getting to bed when Jesse was leaving in the mornings. It had reached the point where Rachel was fast asleep by the time he would get home, trying to kick whatever bug it was she had, and Jesse would sometimes stop at a fast food restaurant and wolf down fatty burgers before he finally ventured back home.

Thus, Jesse was incredibly surprised when he returned from the first full blocking rehearsal at about 1 in the morning to find Rachel still awake, sitting in the bed watching an Oprah rerun on her laptop. She looked up as he entered, and he leaned over, kissing her forehead.

"How are you feeling baby?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"A lot better than I have been. My nose is still running, but what can I really do about that?" as Jesse opened his mouth, she scowled. "Jesse I've _told _you, I have a problem with decongestants!" He quickly closed his mouth again and stripped off hid sweaty rehearsal clothes, sliding into a pair of pajama pants and flopping into the bed next to her.

"Hi," he said as they looked at one another for the first time in days. Rachel smiled, her nose red and her eyes bloodshot and puffy, but she looked pleased to see him all the same.

"Hi," she smiled.

"What did you do today?" he asked her, wrapping himself in the covers. She laughed.

"Mostly I cried," she admitted, and Jesse glanced to her, concerned.

"What?"

"There was some special on Journey on E! and it made me think of home and the Glee club and how much I really miss them, and then I called my mom and talked to her for awhile, and then my dads called and asked me when I was planning on coming home and I had to tell them we hadn't picked a for sure date yet and you _know _how I hate lying to them, and then I couldn't get a hold of Noah again and it was just a rough day," Rachel said quickly, and Jesse looked to her sympathetically.

"I'm sorry babe," he said, and she shrugged.

"I just wonder if they think about me, you know?"

"Your dads? Of course they do."

"No, not them. The club. I mean I really miss them, strange as that sounds. They never truly appreciated my talent and I was usually by the wayside, but they were like a family to me, you know?" she bit her lip, and Jesse leaned onto his one arm, looking up at her.

"Rach, I'm sure they miss you every day, but they still think you're coming back, remember?" he asked, and Rachel shrugged.

"Yeah, that's true," she admitted thoughtfully…wistfully, even. Jesse let out a large yawn, and took her hand.

"I love you baby, but I need to get some sleep otherwise I will die at rehearsal tomorrow, and you need to get better; I seem to remember you have an audition coming up."

"Yeah," Rachel agreed, and Jesse sat up, kissing her cheek.

"Goodnight Rach."

"Mmm."

"Rach?"

"What?"

"I said goodnight," Jesse repeated.

"Oh. Goodnight."

* * *

Jesse was awed by the cast of Chess; he really was. I mean, nothing would compare to Idina Menzel and Josh Groban, but the actors they _had _cast were phenomenal. Jesse was seriously in awe whenever they were onstage, and he sometimes found it hard to perform because he feared that he would look like a fool dancing in their presence. He felt self conscious in his black bodysuit, but he felt much better now that he and Marishka were getting along much better, and she wasn't constantly criticizing his talents (he had to admit he felt good about the fact she was hired as merely a dancer, whereas he had to dance _and _perform). He went out with his fellow choir members every once in a great while to get quick meals, and he found that he adored a pizza shop that wasn't too far from the apartment. Other times they would be let out of rehearsal early and they would sneak him and two other underage members into clubs and bars where they would socialize and get to know one another. Although Jesse felt guilty, he couldn't exactly say know—networking was the straight path to success. He found that he truly was the person on the cast with the least experience, but he didn't allow that to get him down—he felt he had definitely earned his spot on the cast, and they didn't treat him any differently than they did the others, save for the handful of leads.

It was a fairly ordinary Wednesday in late July—it was nearly August—and Jesse thought it a miracle that they'd been let out by 6PM on a weekday. He stopped at the pizzeria and bought the vegan pizza they were so infamous for, deciding to surprise Rachel with dinner. He struggled to get into the building without dropping the pizza, and then stumbled up the stairs and into the apartment, where Rachel sat in a familiar pose on the sofa.

"Hey babe," Jesse grinned, motioning to her with the pizza. "We were let out early so I thought I'd grab dinner. Aw babe I have to tell you, I had such a great day. The director was talking to me and he really thinks that with a few years under my belt, I really have a shot at some serious lead roles. Isn't that awesome?" Jesse had walked into the kitchen and was rifling through the drawer for the pizza cutter. "Babe?" Jesse asked. "Isn't that awesome?"

"Yep."

Jesse frowned. Why was she so upset? What could he possibly have done—she was already up when he woke up, he'd kissed her goodbye before he left, he'd bought her dinner, he'd been genuinely pleasant. So why was she so pissy?

"Rachel?" he asked, worried. "What's going on?"

"Well I had hoped being my boyfriend you would remember what was going on, but apparently that's too much to ask since you have your new friends to keep up with."

"Rachel, what the hell are you going on about?" Jesse asked. Suddenly, Rachel snapped, and before he had a chance to duck, Jesse was hit square in the chest with one of Jason's issues of Backstage Magazine.

"You should know! You should remember! You dragged me here! This is your fault!" she was screeching, and Jesse's heart stopped. The audition.

"Oh _shit._ Rachel, what happened?"

"What happened? _What happened?_" Rachel yelled. "I'll tell you what happened! I'm not what they're looking for. I'm _never _going to be what they're looking for." She had collapsed back onto the sofa, fully in tears by now, and Jesse rushed forward.

"Rachel," he began, crestfallen, but Rachel shook her head.

"No. No Jesse, this is your fault."

"My _fault? _I did this for you! I wanted you to be successful—"

"No Jesse, you did this for yourself. You just dragged me along on this ridiculous string of events and I had nothing to say about it. You made me leave my friends, you made me lie to my family, you put my mother in a position to lie, all to be selfish." Rachel crossed her arms, wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand. Jesse was speechless, and Rachel continued her tirade. "You took _everything _away from me, Jesse. I could have had a perfectly normal summer, but instead I followed you up here, and for what? So I could learn what it's like to be rejected _three times?" _Jesse could only stare at her, dumbfounded. How could she possibly think he was being selfish? How could she possibly think he hadn't factored her into this? The whole reason they were even there was so he wouldn't have had to leave her.

"Rachel," he began, but she shook her head, standing from the sofa.

"No. No Jesse, I just can't right now. You spend all your time with that stupid show and you don't even care about me or your friends anymore."

"How can you even say that!" Jesse shrieked. "I thought you of all people would understand ambition—"

"I do understand, Jesse, but this isn't ambition. This is neglect," she said frankly, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Oh stop being a drama queen," he hissed, but that was it. He had finally send Rachel over the edge.

"I don't need this," she said quietly, walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Jesse asked.

"I'm going for a walk."

"You shouldn't go alone," Jesse argued, and Rachel spun as she reached the door.

"Oh Jesse just stop. You got all paranoid for about a week, and then your precious show came around and you couldn't have cared less. So I am going out for a walk. I do not know when, or frankly, if, I will be back. Goodnight." Rachel walked out, slamming the door behind her, and Jesse rushed forward.

"Rachel. _Rachel!" _he yelled after her down the stairs, and as he heard the front door slam below him, he crumpled onto the stairwell, frustrated and upset. How could this possibly be backfiring on him? Things were so good, he was so happy. He loved living in the city with Rachel, and he just didn't see how she could possibly think that he wasn't doing everything he could to make _her _happy. True that when he was cast his attention had wavered a little, but he was quite positive that had she been cast in a show before he was, she'd have done the same thing. Was this merely just Rachel's diva jealousy getting the best of her?

Jesse didn't realize just how long he was sitting on the stairs until Jason sat on the steps next to him.

"Dude what's up?" he asked, glancing at the miserable face before him. Jesse just shrugged.

"Oh nothing, just bitches ruining my life," he sighed. Jason glanced at him with a wary expression.

"Wow, that's a little…harsh. What's going on?"

"Rachel's mad at me for bringing her here because she had another failed audition. Like, I don't see how that's my fault, sorry," Jesse complained, and Jason nodded beside him.

"I'm sure everything will work out. I mean I know how much it sucks watching everyone else get things while you're working just as hard as they are."

"I…I don't really know what that's like," Jesse admitted.

"It fucking sucks," Jason shrugged. "So she's probably just overwhelmed by that fact and she feels like you're not going to think she's good enough for you. Girls are weird like that."

"But I love her," Jesse exclaimed, frustrated. I brought her here because I love her! Why doesn't she get that?"

"Because girls are clueless sometimes," Jason shrugged. "Look, I wouldn't sweat it. She probably just needed to get all that off her chest and she'll come back and everything will be perfectly normal. Capeesh?" Jason stood, and Jesse nodded, following him back into the apartment.

They sat on the sofa, watching a marathon of some ridiculous show about fisherman on the open sea or something, Jesse continually staring at the door and then staring at the clock, waiting for Rachel to come back, worrying that something bad might have happened to her. That would be his luck, too—she would run off and it would be the one time he didn't stop her or protect her and she would get hurt and—his heart jumped as he saw the doorknob turned and her delicate frame enter the room sheepishly. Jason pretended to be extremely interested in the fishermen, while Jesse stood and approached Rachel.

"Rach," he began, but she shook her head, nodding to Jason. Jesse followed her into their bedroom, and he watched as she folded her arms uncomfortably. "Rachel," he began again, and Rachel looked at him.

"Jesse, I'm sorry," she said, and he nodded.

"It's okay Rach, I understand, really I do—"

"No, Jesse, I'm sorry," she repeated, and he just wrapped his arms around her.

"It's okay. Let's just forget about it, alright?" Jesse asked, and he felt Rachel begin to shake violently as she started to cry. "No, no. Rach, babe, it's okay, seriously. Everything's fine. I love you," he kissed her forehead and pulled her over to the bed so that he could hold her.

"I'm sorry," she said once more when she had calmed down enough, and she looked up into his eyes. Jesse opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the force of a kiss. He didn't pull away, although he couldn't help but be surprised at the intensity of which she was leaning into him. When she straddled him and pushed him backwards, Jesse couldn't help but break the kiss in a pure state of confusion.

"Rach, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I want to be with you," she said simply.

"You _are _with me," he responded as she kissed his neck.

"No not like that," she explained. "I want to make love with you." Jesse frowned.

"Rach, are you sure? I thought you wanted everything to be special…"

"This is special," she explained, and Jesse glanced down at her.

"Rach," he said, but she kissed him again to shut him up.

"Trust me. Please?" Rachel begged, and he nodded nervously. There was a vicious clash of lips, and in one swift movement, Jesse had flipped them over so that he was now on top of Rachel. She was staring at him intensely, but there was still just a glimmer of hesitation in her eye.

"You're sure?" Jesse asked her, and she nodded, biting her lip. Timidly, Jesse slid the short-sleeved sweater off Rachel's shoulders, staring at her in awe. She really was a beautiful creature, even when she looked anxious and terrified. He kissed her once more, and then trailed the kisses down her neck and onto her now bare shoulder. He heard her breath hitch in her throat and he smirked. He felt her tiny hands fumbling to remove his tee shirt and he helped her slightly and laughed as she threw the shirt halfway across the room. He ran a hand through the brown hair that was splayed across the mattress, and smiled. He was surprised at how nervous _he _felt—this was nothing new for him, so why should it be any different?

But as his hands went to slide the straps of her bra off her shoulders, he noticed he was trembling slightly. Being with Rachel _was _different than being with anyone else. He had to be assured that everything would go right; that he wouldn't hurt her.

It didn't take long for clothes to be strewn across the room, protection to be administered, and bodies to become entangled in the sheets. Jesse looked down to Rachel, curly hair matted to his forehead with sweat, and he bit his lip.

"Are you sure Rach?" he asked, and she nodded, taking a deep breath. Heart thundering, Jesse went back to kissing her neck, and his stomach did a flip as he heard Rachel's little gasp. "Are you okay?" he asked her, stopping and looking down.

"Don't talk," Rachel hissed, and Jesse had to laugh.

"Rachel, babe, I have to make sure I'm not hurting you," he pointed out, and she shook her head.

"No. I don't want you to talk," she said, pulling him close so she could kiss him again. Jesse's mind returned to the fact the girl he was in love with was naked underneath him, and he kissed her back passionately, proceeding forward.

After a short time (but not _that _short—at least, Jesse didn't feel it was unreasonably short of a time; no shorter than the average teenage male) the two of them were wrapped up in sheets, protection disposed of and a satisfied grin on Jesse's face. He _had _to remember to get Puck's number from Rachel's phone and tell him that he'd done the unthinkable—maybe he'd call Finn and brag just for the hell of it. Suddenly, Jesse was snapped from his reverie by a hiccup that echoed from the girl next to him, and Jesse glanced over, worried—Rachel was crying.

Immediately, Jesse began to panic. He'd heard that sometimes girls cried after their first times—granted, he'd never really experienced it, but that was because he didn't usually hang around long enough afterwards to find out. But like everything else with Rachel, this was different; this was new.

"Rachel," he said softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" the girl whispered, and he watched her wipe the tears from her face hastily. "I'm just a little emotional, that's all," she explained. Jesse put his arm around her and kissed her shoulder affectionately.

"Well I love you babe," he whispered. He heard her sniff once more, and she then rolled to him.

"I love you too. You know that right?" she whispered back. Jesse laughed.

"Of _course _I do, Rach," Jesse kissed her forehead. He felt her shudder again, and he looked down to her. "Rachel, babe, what's wrong?" She shook her head, and rolled so she was lying on his chest, looking towards him.

"Jesse, promise me we'll always remember this. The way we are right now."

"I promise Rachel."

"And Jesse?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

* * *

A/N: I am NOT cut out to write sleezy romance, good grief. I was so uncomfortable just writing THAT, lol. Reviews are absolutely lovely!


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG! Ahh I feel awful! I started university last month and it's just been chaos trying to keep up with classes (and Glee) and get this written! I'll try not to take nearly as long for the next update, and I hope that I haven't lost any faithful fans because of my lack of updates! You are all SO amazing, and thank you for sticking with this as long as you have!

* * *

When he woke the next morning, Jesse had to smile down at the tiny figure that lay next to him, still wrapped in a sheet. He was a little surprised she hadn't woken for her morning routine, but he shrugged it off, assuming she just hadn't set the alarm after their evening. He crawled out of bed, and took a quick shower, his mind replaying the events of the night before over and over. Jesse threw on some dance apparel, kissed Rachel goodbye, and rushed out the door to rehearsal. He walked into the theatre with his daily Starbucks and his duffel over his shoulder, and picked a seat to dump his things on. He was pretty early, so he sat, sipping his mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso and sighed, contented. He knew he would eventually have to get up and stretch, eventually go do some vocal exercises to warm up his voice, but for now, he was just going to be pleased with how things were.

"What are you so happy about?" Tony, a fellow Chess piece-slash-choir member asked him. Jesse just shrugged.

"I'm just satisfied," Jesse shrugged. Tony stared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes.

"Seriously, wipe that smirk off your face, it's making me sick." Jesse finished his latte and began to jump, attempting to piss Tony off.

"Does my happiness offend thee?" he asked, and Tony flicked him off.

"Oh my _god _you are annoying," he teased, and Jesse laughed.

"I'm just loving life! Riding the high!" he threw his arms open, and then rushed to the stage so that he could stretch. Marishka glanced at him as he approached; she too could notice the spark of energy the boy exerted.

"Don't let your joy fuck up the steps," she said to him when he came over. Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Good morning to you too babe," he sighed, and she laughed.

"I'm just pulling your dick."

"I'd rather you didn't," Jesse retorted with a look, and she snorted.

"Can you help?" she asked him, pointing towards her leg. Jesse pushed it towards the air while Marishka continued to make small talk. "But seriously, why are you so perky today? It's not meth is it? Because that does some nasty shit…so I've heard," she added quickly. After a brief raised eyebrow, Jesse shook his head.

"No, and you frighten me. Arm stretch?" he asked her, and she obliged. "My girlfriend and I are just…things are good."

"Oh god, you got laid didn't you?" she asked, horrified. Jesse burst into laughter at the sight of her expression, and sat on the stage, flexing his feet.

"There's a slight possibility that's—"

"Oh god you did," she exclaimed in terror. "Oh god, I _dance _with you, I don't need to know that." Jesse just beamed, and caught eyes with Tony, who winked.

It really was a stellar rehearsal—so much that they were given an hour off for lunch. Tony, Jesse, Marishka, and the rest of the chess pieces decided to run to the usual pizza shop for a quick bite; Jesse already had his mind set on a huge slice of the meat lovers.

"So when are we going out to the club to get trashed next?" Tony asked, and everyone cheered. "I mean seriously, it's been far too long."

"Dude it's been like a week," another chess piece muttered. Tony shrugged.

"Too damn long," he pointed out.

"Well we got all these babies on the cast," a girl named Jenna pointed out. "Especially you St. James," there were a few playful jeers, and Jesse put his hands up in defense, laughing. Jesse loved being part of such a tight-knit group. True enough that sure, they weren't the leads of a show, and sure, they didn't have that much time in the spotlight to shine, but they were close—it reminded him greatly of New Directions and how close Rachel had been with her teammates.

"Yeah St. James, turn 21 already!"

"21? The kid's not even 19!" Tony laughed.

"Yo, Jesse. You should've gone to audition for "AI." How fucking funny would that be? St. James at the St. James!" someone shouted, and everyone started to laugh.

"Not my kinda music, man," Jesse shrugged.

"Ah you're no fun," Tony complained. The group laughed, and then in realization of the time, ran back to the theatre in one giant herd.

"And 5-6-7-8, arabesque, arabesque, and lift. Higher guys higher. Ladies lift those arms. Graceful, you're the pieces being moved, you have no power to move yourselves. Smooth, smooth!" The choreographer was shouting across the stage, while the partners went through their dance.

"Oh my god, can't you just stop smiling?" Marishka asked, furrowing her eyebrows. Jesse laughed as he picked her up and flipped her over his head, receiving a face full of blonde hair. He sputtered as it stuck to his sweaty face, and the pair began to giggle, attempting to continue the dance, but thoroughly distracted by the situation.

"You know, I think I'm going to be happy all the time now. It's so fun to see how pissed off it makes you."

"Please go jump off a bridge. Preferably the Brooklyn."

"Only if you come with me, dollface," Jesse quipped, holding her by her arms as she gracefully swooped beside him, arching her legs.

"My time is dance time! This is my time! Conversations happen some other time, not on my dance time!" the choreographer called irritably across the stage. Jesse and Marishka glanced at one another, smirking, and then continued the routine fighting to prove who had the better showface.

After dance rehearsal, the pair stood before Tony, demanding that he decide. Looking petrified, Tony insisted that they both expressed the required face to make it big on Broadway, and decked out of rehearsal before another word could be spoken. Neither Jesse nor Marishka could buy that malarkey, but they allowed Tony this one free pass. Bidding his colleagues (and friends) goodbye, he began his journey home. Jesse thought about lots of things on that walk home: first he considered the advantages of purchasing a bicycle, but immediately rejected that idea—he'd never learned to ride one. That had come to be a rather tricky item when Vocal Adrenaline had insisted they continue their Queen theme with "Bicycle Race," performing the entire number on bicycles. Jesse had danced around this (the pun he hadn't intended, but he had to admit, was rather clever) by begging Shelby that "Bohemian Rhapsody" was a far more relatable and wise performance, and her fears that it was overdone were completely unnecessary.

Next, Jesse wondered if UCLA would call him and ask that he clarify his choice to deny matriculation. He knew he would have to eventually face the wrath of his mother, but he was far more confident now that he had a job and things were beginning to settle. She would have to understand his commitment to the show, and how he had an opportunity with this that four years of undergraduate school simply could not provide him. Jesse decided partway through his reverie that today deserved to be special, and he stopped briefly at the Panera Bread on the corner and ordered an iced chai.

Jesse had to laugh. He remembered his early Vocal Adrenaline days when he would be harassed for drinking such a feminine beverage. Those were the moments when Jesse vowed that someday _he _would be the male lead; _he _would be the star. He smiled brightly at the barista as she handed him the drink, and Jesse continued on his way.

Perhaps if Jesse St. James were a different man, he would have been suspicious about the good feelings he'd had all day. He would have questioned his good fortune and placed a call home to assure everything was going well. But Jesse was not that man, and at that moment, he was drawing near to the apartment building. He jogged up the stairs, and found Seth and Jason in the same spot on the stairs that he and Jason had shared the evening before. The pair of men started at the sight of Jesse, and both were immediately on their feet.

"Jesse!" they shouted simultaneously.

"Jesse, how was rehearsal?" Jason asked, casually leaning on the railing.

"Uh, it was fine?" Jesse shrugged, blinking a few times in confusion.

"You know what? We never go out just the boys. We should go out," Seth said looking to Jason for support. Jason nodded furiously, and Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"Okay…let me just grab a shower and change—"

"No! No, let's just go! If we hurry we can still catch—uh…guys' hour!"

"Guys' hour?" Jesse asked with a look.

"Yeah, it's super popular in the city," Seth said obviously. Jesse nodded slowly, attempting to understand what they were up to. It wasn't his birthday for another two months…

"What's going on, guys?" he asked, puzzled. Jason and Seth glanced at one another.

"Noth…ing?" Jason attempted, but Jesse raised a furious eyebrow.

"That isn't nothing. What aren't you telling me?" The others glanced at one another once more, and Jason began to speak again.

"Look, Jesse, we don't want you to be upset—"

"We couldn't do anything," Seth interjected. Jesse folded his arms uncomfortably.

"Do anything about what?" he asked. As the boys looked guiltily another time, Jesse furiously broke through the barrier they attempted to build and into the apartment. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, except for the quiet Taryn who sat on the sofa with a cup of tea. She refused to look at Jesse, who stormed into the bedroom.

To say that Jesse was devastated by what he saw would be simplifying things. All of Rachel's things were gone, leaving half the room empty and stark. The drawers that had held her clothes were empty and jutting slightly from the dresser, her pillow missing from the bed. Nothing was left, and Jesse could only assume the worst.

"Where'd she go?" he began to yell, and the two males cowered in the living room.

"We don't know, I swear!" Jason explained, and Seth nodded.

"She was gone before we got up," he explained, pointing between himself and Taryn.

"Where _is _she," Jesse shouted, and they shrugged, looking panicked. Jesse immediately whipped out his phone, dialing Rachel frantically.

"Rach. Rachel, answer the phone. Rachel where the hell _are _you?" he cried into the phone when he received her voicemail. He hung up and irritably dialed again, his hands running desperately through his hair and his face contorted and frustrated. How long had she been gone? Who knew what could have happened between here and the train station (where he assumed she had gone to travel home)? He called repeatedly, and finally the calls began going straight to voicemail—either her phone was dead, or she had turned it off.

"Jesse," Jason said timidly after Jesse had collapsed onto the sofa. Jesse simply shook his head.

"No more."

"What?"

"No more. I don't want to think about it. Just stop." There were a few shifty eyes, but everyone obliged to Jesse's wishes.

Thoughts of Rachel plagued Jesse. Was she safe? Had she made it back to Ohio? Would she be spending the night alone in some strange place? Each time he closed his eyes he saw her; could practically hear her voice in his head. In attempt to extract her, Jesse turned the television on and flipped through channels, stopping on the channel that always played old movies. To his pleasure, he recognized the black and white film immediately as "42nd Street," and smiled, remembering his first viewing of the film as a younger child. Unfortunately, his bliss was short lived as he quickly found himself connected to the plot of the story, Rachel's sudden departure sharp and fresh in his head and heart.

"_We've grown too necessary to one another. You've been content to rest in the shadows while I basked in the spotlight, simply because it held us together. My success has been your failure." _Jesse had to laugh bitterly as he listened to Dorothy attempting to break Pat's heart. He couldn't help but find the situation too close for comfort—he had held Rachel back in order for his own success. Jesse turned his attention back to the film, and felt his heart aching.

"—_capable of such great things. You're not a quitter. I've only wanted to help you, but I've been hurting you instead. I realize that now—" _

Jesse turned the television off and threw the remote onto the couch, storming into the bedroom and slamming the door shut. For Jesse, this was not the end—oh no—this was merely the beginning. He _would_ get a hold of Rachel, and he _would_ get her back. He was Jesse St. James- and he _never_ quit.

* * *

A/N: I know, I HATED to break them up again-but it's no fun if there aren't at least a FEW bumps in the road! Next chapter should be coming soon, and again, I am SO sorry that it took me so long to get this one up! I love you all! -Lauren


	23. Chapter 23

A little present in honor of the Never Been Kissed episode (aka Darren Criss-mas). Sorry updates have been so few and far between, but college is sucking up all my time (it's awful)! Hope you enjoy it, and I'll have another chapter up sometime soon (I hope)! Reviews are lovely!

* * *

The following morning, Jesse briefly forgot his plight. He rolled over to greet Rachel, and his heart shattered all over again as he was greeted by the silence of the empty bed. He moved lethargically through his daily routine, clouded with bitterness. The smell of his morning coffee caused his stomach to turn, the water of his shower seared his skin. The chirp of birds and the buzz of New Your City made him irritable. Putting on his dance gear felt like a chore, exhausting and dull. He slammed the front door and began his pilgrimage to the theatre—the place where he felt safest, a place that could never leave, never hurt him the way Rachel had.

He walked towards the theatre, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a long abandoned store window. He couldn't help but jump—his eyes were sunken and the expression he wore was one he ad never seen before. For the second time in his life, Jesse St. James wore an expression of heartbreak, the same he wore that fateful moment he chose to betray Rachel. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he straightened up and stared himself down in the window.

Showface.

He made it through rehearsal like a martyr, his friends unaware of his emotional turmoil. They were going out for drinks that evening, but Jesse politely declined, aware that in this state of melancholia, drinking might be detrimental.

"C'mon Jesse, come out with us!"

"Yeah, and bring Rachel, we want to meet this girl, you talk about her enough." Jesse's face fell briefly, but he saved it immediately with his trademark showface.

"I would, but she's actually back in Ohio visiting her mother," he lied. His friends grinned.

"Even more reason for you to come out with us, she'll never know!" Jesse laughed bitterly—it was quite possible that she _would _never know.

"I've gotta pass today guys, I'm sorry. I have a ton of work to get done," he shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. His friends waved him off, and Jesse slowly departed for home. He had barely made it out of the theatre when he heard footsteps behind him, and he looked.

"Hey partner," Marishka smiled, and he nodded.

"You're not joining them?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"I'll catch up," she explained, then bit her lip. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Jesse said flatly. She raised an eyebrow expectantly, and Jesse rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Jesse, you haven't shut your mouth since I met you. That's almost two months. I know everything about your life, from what you eat for breakfast to if you're out of clean underwear."

"What's your point Marishka?"

"My point is that I find it a little odd that Rachel just suddenly goes to Ohio the day after I see you happier than you've ever been before. Not to mention you were like a rock today."

"Marishka, look. If I wanted to let you know what's happening in my life I would tell you, okay?"

"You usually do," she pointed out. Jesse closed his eyes, sighing. That was the thing about Marishka that he wasn't used to—having a partner that genuinely cared about his well being—having a partner that wasn't Giselle.

"She left," Jesse admitted. He wasn't sure why he broke his vow of silence, but it was so simple, so easy to open up to someone.

"Do you know why?" Marishka asked as they leaned against the marble walls of the theatre lobby.

"I pushed her too hard. I cared too much about my own success and she couldn't handle it. She…she wasn't doing well, she wanted to be successful so badly that she couldn't…"

"That's not your fault—"

"Yes it is. She wanted to go home, and I didn't listen."

"You can't blame yourself for not wanting to give up the only chance you may ever be given," Marishka pointed out, and Jesse shook his head.

"I love her. I should have done it for her," he breathed. "I have to go," he said. She began to follow, but he shook his head, turning to her. "Marishka, I appreciate everything, really, I do. But I need to be alone, okay?" he asked, chewing on his tongue and bottom lip. She nodded.

"I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow Jesse," she said. He turned to leave, but after a moment, she called after him.

"Jesse?"

"Yes?" he asked, turning slowly.

"She'll come back," Marishka said kindly.

"I hope you're right," Jesse shrugged. He took a casual glance to his phone as he began his venture home, and his heart seized—one missed call, one new voicemail. Was it Rachel? Had she come to her senses; did she want to come home? Flipping the phone open, Jesse was quite sure he could feel his heart within his throat, but it sank almost immediately—it was an unfamiliar number, but one he could recognize as having an Ohio area code. With trembling fingers, Jesse dialed his mailbox. After impatiently going through the motions of entering passwords and pressing buttons, he took a breath as he waited for the voice on the other end.

"Yo, St. James," a male voice began, and Jesse let out a heavy sigh, quite sure he was about to be verbally slaughtered. "I'm not allowed to say anything about where Rachel is or what she's doing or how she feels about you, but let me say this. I promised you once that if you hurt her, I'd kill you. And like I said, I'm not supposed to say anything, but word has it you wouldn't let her leave, so if I _ever _see you again I'm going to kick your nuts into your throat. Deal? Shit man, I liked you too. Way to blow it. Alright. Later dude." Jesse closed his eyes. This was it; he had blown it. She was back in Ohio; it was over.

Jesse leaned against a building, begging himself not to lose his composure. Why had he pushed Rachel so hard? Why hadn't he listened to her requests to go home; why had he been so selfish? Despite everything he had said, he hadn't brought her here to keep them together, he'd brought her here because he was a selfish asshole, just like everyone had always said he was.

"_Why are things always so fucked up?"_ he yelled, and an elderly man stopped on the sidewalk, glancing to him.

"Welcome to New York, kid."

* * *

With the coming of September came Jesse's realization that he would have been well into his classes, soaking up the warm California sun. Would he have made friends? Would he be the most talented of his year—wait, that was a ridiculous question, of course he would. Shaking his slight feeling of regret each time he was enveloped, he would begin to convince himself that he was far more happy and successful with his career in New York than he could ever have been at UCLA.

It was raining heavily on September 3rd, and Jesse jogged the streets, fighting with his almost useless umbrella and the horizontal rain, attempting futilely to remain dry. He finally managed to dart into the theatre lobby, shaking himself and his umbrella dry. He would begin each morning with a nod and quizzical stare from Marishka, to which he had to shake his head regretfully each morning. She was hell-bent on the fact that Rachel would return someday, but Jesse was gradually losing hope. He threw his things on a chair, nothing unusual, but was startled as his phone buzzed silently in his pocket. Glancing around, he assumed he had a few minutes to take the call, and he looked to his phone—it was a restricted, international call.

"Hello?" Jesse answered, his heart pounding.

"Hello Jesse."

"Dad?" Jesse asked breathlessly.

"Jesse you need to go home."

"What are you talking about?"

"You. Need. To. Go. Home."

"Dad—"

"I am _not _letting you throw your life away to live as some tramp on the streets just because you want to _express yourself—"_

"Oh holy god, dad, shut up," Jesse snapped. "If you remember, I was putting _myself _through college. It was _my _scholarship. Sorry that it wasn't fucking Harvard, but it's what _I _wanted. Now that I've decided it's not, I'm staying here. I'm happy, I'm successful—"

"And I'm your father-"

"Oh so you're choosing almost 19 years into my life to act like it?"

"Don't you _dare _fucking accuse me of not—"

"Dad, just stop. You're probably racking up your international calling bill."

"You are out of fucking _line, _kiddo."

"Dad, I am staying in New York City. I am doing what I want and I am going to be happy, and I'm sorry if it displeases you, but you've never really pleased me, and you're going to have to deal."

"Jesse," his mother whispered, and his heart sank slightly. He could hear the disappointment in her voice, and no longer hear his father's furious breathing. "Jesse, are you happy?"

He closed his eyes, smirking bitterly. He had been so happy, but now with the empty hole Rachel had left, he detested his life. But he was living out his dream, and that was the most important thing to him—wasn't it?

"Mom, you have no idea how much I love it here. Everything's just…I can't come home."

"Jesse, you're a young man now, and your father and I can't control you anymore, as much as we may hate to admit it. Can we have your address? I'll have Hilda mail you any of your remaining belongings."

"Wait what?"

"Jesse, I'm sorry. You've made your choice; your father's made his. I love you sweetie."

"Mom—" he began, but was cut short by a screech, and then a woman's voice.

"_I'm sorry, this call has exceeded the allotted limit of the international card. Please hang up, and we will attempt to reconnect you. Thank you…"_

_

* * *

_

Although Jesse and Jason spent much more time together the weeks after Rachel's departure and Jesse's disowning from his own family, Jesse still felt alone a majority of the time, with Taryn and Seth always at performances when he would return home from rehearsal. When he woke alone the morning September 18th, he let out an exasperated cry into his pillow. He desperately checked his phone, praying maybe Rachel would remember, that she'd give him the time of day, but it was useless.

He drank his coffee slowly on his walk to the theatre. He knew his castmates wouldn't remember or know, save for Marishka. Things were getting down to the nitty-gritty at rehearsal, and he was sure they couldn't be bothered with something so frivolous—it was all business. He worked hard, just like the rest of the cast, felt superbly accomplished—but he would be spending his 19th birthday alone, just as he did every year.

They were finished by nine (an early night for them in the crunch weeks), and the cast and crew departed for the night. Marishka stopped him, giving him a fleeting hug, Happy Birthday, and questioning stare, to which he laughed and shook his head, their daily routine.

Taryn had baked him a cake, and although he genuinely appreciated the effort, it tasted rather like sawdust because of all the replacement ingredients she had used to make it vegan friendly. This was a fresh stab to his slowly healing heart—Rachel would have been selfless and used ingredients for him, despite how offended she may have been. When Jason arrived home, he refused to allow Jesse to sit alone at home.

"It is your _birthday, _St. James. We are going to Nicky's and we are going to get you wasted and you're going to talk to girls."

"I don't _want _to talk to girls, Jason," Jesse protested, while Jason waved off his words like a pestering flea.

"Oh come on," he begged. Jesse rolled his eyes.

"It's already nearly 11," he protested, but Jason crossed his arms.

"That's the perfect time to go out. You don't turn nineteen everyday, come _on." _

"I'm so going to regret this," Jesse heaved, as Jason pumped a fist in the air.

"It's going to be legendary!" Jason shouted as he darted back to his bedroom.

"Who are you, Barney Stinson?" Jesse called after him.

"Suit up!"

Nicky's was much more crowded in the fall when the college students returned. Nicky was greatly pleased to see the boys, and before he knew it, Jesse was taking complementary birthday shots of…something. After a few, Jesse found himself slumped on a stool, giggling, and Jason was chasing his one complementary shot with a beer.

"I love drunk Jesse!" Jason yelled, and some of the others at the bar let out a cheer. Jesse however, wasn't paying attention to the praise he was receiving—a short, brunette waitress had caught his eye as she floated across the bar floor. It couldn't be—she had gone home, she was in Ohio. He jumped down from his stool and tried to follow her across the room, but she had disappeared into the crowd. Frustrated, he looked towards the ceiling, and then his eyes fell upon the wall opposite where he stood. He whipped out his cell phone, sneaking out a side door and onto a small concrete staircase beside an alleyway.

"Hello?" a woman's voice answered.

"Where's your daughter?" Jesse asked breathlessly.

"What the hell?" the woman responded.

"Where is she?"

"Who is this? Leave me alone! I'm not afraid, I'll call the police!"

"Shelby it's me," Jesse said hoarsely. The phone was silent for a moment.

"Christ, Jesse, you sound like a serial killer. What's going on?"

"Where's Rachel?"

"Who are you, Batman?"

"Answer my question Shelby," Jesse said. His heart and head were pounding.

"I…I can't Jesse. I'm sorry. I shouldn't even be talking to you."

"Shelby, you're the only person who's been there for me—"

"She's my daughter, Jesse. I'm sorry."

She hung up before he could even argue, and he wanted just to throw his phone and completely give up, He had no idea what state Rachel was in, his parents had abandoned him, and now Shelby had done the same. Everything was crumbling around him, and his world was spinning—granted, he _was _drunk. He sat on the curb with his face in his hands, and sighed—Happy. Fucking. Birthday.

"Jesse! Jesse, come on man," Jason said from the doorway. Jesse wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting on the stair, but it felt like it had been ages. "Jesse I want you to meet someone, come with me."

"Is it Rachel?"

"No, forget Rachel—"

"I can't—"

"Jesse, this is Molly. She goes to NYU; she's in Film School. She's going to need actors soon, she's going to be working on some projects."

"Hi, you're Jesse?" the girl asked, smiling.

"I'm drunk." Molly giggled, and held out a hand.

"Hi drunk Jesse, I'm Molly. Nice to meet you."

"Complementary birthday Yeager Bomb!" Jason yelled.

And that was where it all went black.

The morning after his birthday, Jesse awoke with a splitting headache on the sofa in the apartment. As soon as came around, he sat up, terrified. Had he been faithful to Rachel? What had happened with that girl—he couldn't even remember her name! He rushed to Jason's room, but he wasn't there. Panicking, he pulled out his phone, praying that Jason would answer.

'Yeah?"

"What the hell happened?"

Jason proceeded to confirm to Jesse that nothing out of the ordinary happened the evening before, save for Jesse vomiting what Jason could have sworn was tar on the sidewalk outside the apartment. He swore things with the girl had been friendly and professional, and he wasn't even sure they had exchanged numbers. As they hung up, Jesse checked his phone, and his heart sank. He had made two calls the evening before—one to Shelby, and one, much later in the evening, to Rachel. What had he said? What mistake had he made? It was then that his brain began to recall moments from the night before—the phone call with Shelby, how she'd been so strange, as if she were keeping a secret from him, seeing what he thought had been Rachel working at the bar. Snapping his phone shut, he leaned back on the sofa and groaned. He was alone, and he could feel Rachel slipping further and further away.

* * *

Bear with me folks, I promise, we'll get back to the fluff eventually! I hope you enjoyed it, and don't forget to review. Merry Criss-mas/Kissed-mas!


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Here's a quick little update, but don't fret-winter holidays are coming up soon, so I'm going to have a lot more time to write/post updates! I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to read and review! =]

* * *

Jesse hadn't expected any gifts—Jason had taken him drinking, Taryn had made the cake, so a mysterious package addressed to him on the apartment doorstep two days after his day of birth caught him quite off guard. Jesse picked it up gingerly, confused. It seemed too small, too light to be anything from his home, and his name was addressed too neatly to be Hilda's. Retreating into the apartment, he set the brown box on the counter and gingerly opened the tightly sealed tape with a butter knife. Inside sat a rectangular plastic Tupperware and a white envelope, which bore his name in cursive scrawl—a very familiar cursive scrawl.

Jesse's heart leapt as he tore open the envelope. He begged his legs allow him the strength to remain standing, and he fought the lump in his throat as he began to read.

_Jesse, _

_I hope this letter finds you well. Happy Birthday, I apologize that it's a bit belated. I hope you enjoy the infamous sugar cookies I've enclosed (and yes, I made them to your preferences and not mine). _

_Jesse, there is something that has been weighing heavily on my mind since the day I made my departure, and it was your telephone call that allowed me to confirm my suspicions. We cannot be together, Jesse. That message contained everything I wished to say, but you vocalized it so much better. You'll have your success and I'll have mine. I'm sorry, Jesse. I know it shouldn't have ended this way; I thought I just needed time. But Jesse, you know me better than anyone—I couldn't stand watching you flourish while I stood behind you in the shadows. _

_I'm sorry, Jesse. It's better this way, it really is. We simply have to let it go and let it live in the past, while we propel ourselves forward. You and I are destined for great things; I know it. And maybe someday in the future, when we're older but none the wiser, we'll be able to try it again. _

_Goodbye Jesse. _

_All my love, _

_Rachel Berry _

Jesse sat in stunned silence for almost a full minute, running his thumb over the tiny gold star she had placed beside her name. It was over—it was really over. She would be moving on, and she expected him to do the same. Without thinking, barely breathing, he dialed a familiar female number into the keypad on his phone.

"Hello?"

"It's over."

"What?" Marishka was puzzled, and Jesse ran a hand through his hair.

"I called Rachel the other night when I was wasted and she wrote me a response letter. I apparently made an asshole of myself and…ugh."

"But what do you mean it's over?"

"She basically told me that I have my path and she has hers. How could I be so stupid?"

"Hey kid, don't blame yourself. Without her you wouldn't even be here, you would have been given these opportunities and you wouldn't know the people you've met—"

"But if I hadn't come here I'd have her," Jesse argued. Marishka scoffed.

"Yeah right. Let me give you some life-changing advice, kiddo. No one keeps their high school relationships through college, " she pointed out.

"Whatever," Jesse pouted, disheartened. "Look, I've got to go, I just wanted to let you know you don't need to ask anymore. I'll see you at rehearsal."

"Hey kid?"

"Yes?"

"Don't lose hope," she said, and Jesse heard the line go dead. He sighed, absentmindedly running his hand over that golden star one more time. He returned to the box, extracting the Tupperware, and lifted the lid. Biting his lip, he unveiled her infamous star shaped cookies with yellow frosting and "Happy Birthday" written in royal blue icing. She had to have spent a fair amount of time on them—too much time for her to think about him and not have any underlying feelings creep towards the surface.

Furiously, Jesse scrambled for paper and pen. Lying across the countertop, he scrawled out his response.

_Rachel, _

_Please, before you choose to throw this letter away, just hear me out. I love you, Rachel. I messed up by not giving you the attention you deserve and not listening when you wanted to return to Lima and pushing you too hard and selling the car but I do love you, Rachel. You make me a better person and I want to be with you. You can't let our tragedy end like this—no amount of Sondheim could ever repair the agony I feel waking every day and realizing you aren't there. I want to sing "All I Ask of You" on top of the Empire State Building while the city dances around below us. I want our life to be like the plot of a classic Sinatra ballad. Don't do this Rachel—don't repeat our mistakes, I can't continue this "The Way We Were" role-play. Please Rachel, don't let this go. If you asked me, I would give it all up if you were to return to me. We're meant to be together. _

_I love you, _

_Jesse_

Frantically, he searched for an envelope and a stamp, and scribbled Rachel's Ohio address. Shoving his feet into shoes, he flew down the stairs and to the mailbox, his heart flying. She had to be his again—she just had to.

* * *

By October, there was definitely an autumn chill in the air. Rachel had officially been gone for over a month now, and although none wanted to admit it, Jesse's roommates felt his attempts at reconciliation had reached a level of utmost hopelessness. Things were going well with Chess; he had a good life, a good apartment. Jesse had to admit he was satisfied—he just desperately missed his girlfriend.

Just as he had been shocked to find a birthday present on his doorstep that day, he was even more shocked when he awoke one morning to find his letter to Rachel unopened on the kitchen island, with that awful red stamp that read "Unable to be delivered—return to sender." What did

this mean? He was _sure _he'd gotten her mailing address correct, so the only reasonable explanation was that she had moved—but to where? Jesse wished desperately that he could call Shelby and get the story from her, but he knew her loyalty to her daughter was far stronger than her

loyalty to a former student. Dejected, Jesse threw the letter in the wastebasket—just another chance at reconciliation—gone.

That evening, Jesse's plans consisted of a venture to the theatre for a mandatory production meeting for the cast and crew of Chess. Just when he was starting to feel life couldn't become more hopeless, there was that stupid, _stupid _meeting that changed everything.

The entire cast and crew had packed into the first few rows of the theatre, with important heads and directorial staff on the stage. They wore morose expressions, and Tony leaned over to Jesse.

"Christ, looks like someone died," he commented.

"Anyone know what this is about?" Jesse asked. Tony shrugged, and Marishka sighed from Jesse's right.

"This is annoying. What if I'd had plans tonight?"

"Who would _you_ have had plans with?"

"Oh fuck you," she spat. Tony and Jesse high-fived, just as Michael Ettinger rose to the stage.

"Guys, we have some news," he began. "We have adored every moment we've worked with this cast. You have been amazing and we could not have asked for more dedication. However we…we have to pull the show." There were some murmurs, and Jesse glanced to Tony. "Our funds have been cut, guys. We can't afford to do the show. There's no show." It looked as though the words were physically painful for Michael to utter. Jesse's heart sank. Some of the females (and more secure males) began to cry, while others began yelling and exclaiming obscenities.

"We're sorry, guys. It's just…it's not going to happen. We have to pull the show. You have all been an amazing family, and I hate to see this happen to all of you."

Jesse tuned the director out. This experience—this chance—had caused him to give everything up, to completely change his life, and now it was being violently ripped away from him, just like everything else. Michael was still talking, but Jesse continued to stare blankly at the floor. Rachel. He'd blown it with Rachel for this show, and now it was gone too.

"I will never forget any of you. It just simply wasn't our time." Michael stepped down, and a sad round of applause broke out among the now former cast of Chess. Jesse, Marishka, and Tony looked at one another for a moment, and the usually stoic Marishka finally broke down. Her hiccups were echoed by many across the theatre, and both Jesse and tony enveloped their friend into an embrace.

"This is so unfair," she whined. "Can we still go out and get wasted sometimes?" she asked. The men laughed, and Tony looked around the theatre with a lustful glance.

"You know, I'm going to miss this place," he admitted.

"Yeah, it was nice to have people I knew here," Jesse shoved his hand sin his hoodie pockets.

"Well hey, like we said, we'll still go get shitfaced," Tony grinned, and they laughed together once more.

"Hey, why wait?" Jesse asked.

So for one last time, the entire dance company of the former production of Chess piled into the club they had so frequently vacated over those last few months. They ordered beverages, the older patrons sneaking things to the "babies." Briefly, Jesse forgot about the loss of his job, briefly forgot how miserable things were bound to become.

"You guys are like my family, you know that?" Tony was blathering wildly, Marishka hanging on his arm. They had an entire corner of the club claimed, just next to a large class window. The traffic flew by, the headlights flashing shadowy patterns on the wall behind the group as they passed.

"So what are you going to do, Jesse?" asked a friend, Erik. Jesse simply shrugged—what were his options, really? He couldn't go home, and who knew when the next rounds of castings would be.

"Who knows," he admitted, glancing outward to the passing cars. "I guess I'll just see where life takes me, I suppose," he said, laughing bitterly. In his early teen years, he had always had a plan, yet here he was, an adult, and he had no idea what he was even doing.

"Well I'm sure you'll figure it out. Although it's going to suck, really, all of us going neck-and-neck for the same parts, huh?" Erik smirked, and Jesse just smiled weakly. It was going to be _hell _trying to find a job again, but at least now he had experience—sort of. As Erik turned away, Jesse let out a frustrated sigh and glanced back out the large window. He blinked several times then stood, his eyes locked on a city bus. He watched it for the near minute it stood at a standstill in the city traffic, and then broke into a run towards the door of the club, ignoring the objections and bewilderment of his friends.

Jesse chased the bus down the sidewalk almost two blocks before it turned left down a side street and disappeared. Catching his breath, Jesse ran a hand through his hair, then composed himself and returned to the club, showing the bouncer the wristband he wore.

"What the hell was that about?" Tony asked after breaking a passionate kiss with Marishka when he'd seen Jesse approach.

"I just saw Rachel."

"What?" Marishka asked, clearly intrigued, and slopping beer down the front of her shirt. Jesse picked up the beverage he had abandoned and nodded. "Where?"

"Bus," he tilted his head toward the window.

"You should have followed her!" Marishka shrieked. Jesse shook his head, and she scowled.

"I couldn't."

"Why the hell not?"

"She wasn't _in_ the bus. She was _on_ it."

* * *

A/N: I listened, and I gave them some interaction (sort of)! I promise, just stick with me-she'll be back soon!


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Hope my American readers had a good holiday! Here's a quick little update, hopefully this clears up a few questions from the end of the last chapter. Also, tomorrow is my last day of classes, then one final, and I'll be done for winter holidays, which means LOTS of writing! And remember, reviews help to spark my creativity, so read and review! Love you guys! 3**

* * *

Jesse spent weeks searching for another city bus, attempting to find that billboard. It had been there, plain as day—an ad for a sweater or something, he hadn't really been paying attention; all he could see was Rachel. Had he imagined it? Had it simply been a tiny brunette, and in his state, had he mistakenly hoped it had been Rachel? He had no proof that it had really existed, and he stopped short of traveling to the bus garage and searching every vehicle himself.

With the loss of his income, Jesse's splurges were severely cut back. He was forced to do overstuffed loads of laundry, scrounging around for quarters under his bed and dresser. He'd cancelled the gym membership and exercised in the living room. Even things he considered necessary like his morning coffee were placed on the back burner, causing him to invest in his bullshit coffeemaker.

So it was a big deal when he chose to splurge and stop at a Starbucks for a winter classic latte. It was only mid-November, but the store was already playing Christmas tunes. Jesse was deep in thought, lost in his latte and God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, when a tiny hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Jesse?" he was startled, and looked up to be met with glasses and reddish hair.

"Hey…Molly?" Jesse prayed he had her name right, and he was relieved when she beamed back at him. She sat in the chair opposite him, sipping on her drink quickly.

"It's really great to see you again! I was just talking to Jason about how I'd wanted to get a hold of you for casting—"

"You know Jason?" Jesse asked stupidly. Molly giggled, curling her legs up in the chair.

"Of course I know Jason, he introduced us, remember?"

"But I mean, he knew you before that?"

"He's been in a handful of my projects," she shrugged. "And now we're semi-close." Jesse looked at her suspiciously, and she giggled again. "No, we've never hooked up," she rolled her eyes. Jesse put his hands up innocently.

"I wasn't saying…" he trailed off. Molly's infectious giggle echoed again, and he smiled. It was a strange feeling, flirting with someone again.

"Hey, could I get your contact info?" she asked, and Jesse nodded. Molly handed him a pen and he scrawled on the cardboard holder around his coffee.

"If you're feeling up to it, I'd really like you to audition. I think you'd be really good for the part." Jesse nodded, and Molly grinned, taking the pen and writing on her own cardboard wrapper. "I'll email you," she smiled, handing him the cardboard.

"Please do," Jesse smiled, but his stomach was in knots. Wasn't this what Rachel had wanted of him; moving on? Besides, it wasn't like he was planning on dating the girl; he was simply making connections. If she went on to be a successful filmmaker, he'd have an in, and perhaps she would contact him and his career would leap forward. Molly looked a bit red, and glanced at the wall clock.

"I hate to do this, but I've got to get to class," she bit her lip, but Jesse was already gone. His ears had tuned into the Christmas song—a belting note: a familiar, female belting note. He snapped out of his reverie and made to continue the conversation, but Molly had already left. He snapped up his coffee and ran to the counter.

"Excuse me."

"Can I help you sir?"

"Who's singing?"

"Excuse me?"

"This song, who is it?"

"I'm not sure, sir. My boss deals with all the music—"

"Is he here?"

"_She _comes in at five, sir," the barista glared at him. Jesse nodded, then backed away to examine the small stand of CD's. As desperately as he tried, however, none of them even listed "Oh Holy Night" as a track, let alone Rachel Berry. He gave up his search; perhaps Rachel simply had a vocal _and _physical doppelganger.

* * *

Thanksgiving was a small and quiet celebration. Taryn made both a small turkey and tofurky (despite how opposed to cooking the bird she was), and threw together some quick mashed potatoes and instant stuffing. Jason had picked up a pie from a small diner on his return from the theatre the night before. They were a small, screwed up family, but they were the only family he had left. In a weird way, Jesse had always been bounced from family to family each year—Vocal Adrenaline was always changing, and that was whom he'd spent the holiday with each year since he was fifteen. They rehearsed most of the day, and then a full Thanksgiving spread was set out for them by about 9PM. Shelby would berate their performance, then praise their hard work and toast to the future.

It was strange to think it had nearly been a year since the start of the Rachel ordeal. Thanksgiving had been a little over a week before Vocal Adrenaline had gone to Sectionals to scope out the competition. Two months later, Shelby had explained—she wanted Jesse to befriend the female lead of New Directions. Jesse had assumed sabotage, but Shelby had severely told him no. She needed to know more about this Rachel Berry girl, because there was a serious possibility that she was Rachel's mother.

Here he was, almost an entire year later, supposed to be giving thanks for the things he'd been given. He'd fallen in love with a girl whom he was merely supposed to introduce to her mother. He had stolen a Regionals win right from under her by screwing her and the team over, he'd abandoned the idea of college and moved to the city. He'd been cast in a show, then had that ripped away. What did he truly have to be thankful for? His health? Big whoop.

He lethargically finished his meal, and the messed up family plopped on the sofa and armchairs to gather around the television. As he watched Will Ferrell shove cotton balls in his mouth, marveling with his friends that networks wasted little to no time turning the world to Christmas, his mind began to wander. Where was Rachel? How was she spending the holiday? Did she have someone to spend the holidays with, like Hudson? Jesse berated himself—why couldn't he just get the balls to travel back to Ohio and confront her? There was always something that held him back; that told him it would be useless.

Jesse was slightly startled as his phone vibrated heavily in his pocket. It was an unfamiliar number, and although he doubted and tried to terminate the thought, he had a fleeting hope that it was Rachel. Rushing to his bedroom, Jesse answered the phone breathlessly.

"Hi, Jesse?" a female voice spoke. His hearth was thundering. "It's Molly." Of course it had been Molly; it was stupid of him to believe it was anyone else.

"Hey Molly. How's your holiday?"

"Oh hell, I keep forgetting it's Thanksgiving. Am I interrupting?"

"Nah," Jesse laughed. "Just watching Elf with my roommates."

"Ooh, Zooey Deschanel," Molly remarked.

"In her blonde days," Jesse retorted. "Not my favorite. Have you ever seen that _awful_ made for TV version of "Once Upon a Mattress" that she was in?"

"Oh my god I love that movie!" Molly gushed. "I thought Sir Harry was _so _cute!" she giggled.

"You know, I had a choir teacher who looked remarkably like him," Jesse realized. They laughed a bit longer, and then molly gathered herself.

"Look at me, getting all off-topic and unprofessional. My professor would _not _be very pleased with me. Anyway, I called to inform you I'm holding auditions for an untitled project next week, what would that be…December 3rd."

"Okay," Jesse grabbed a sheet of paper and scrawled the date and an address Molly rattled off.

"I'd love for you to come Jesse. I feel like you would have a pretty good shot," Molly alluded. Jesse laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'll be there Molly," he assured her.

"That's great. Thank you so much Jesse, this is going to be great."

"Hey, at least give the other auditioners a chance!" he teasingly protested. Molly chuckled, and Jesse let a smirk escape his lips.

"I'm so excited to see you again!" Molly squealed.

"I am too," Jesse said, and shockingly, meant it.

"Bye Jesse!" she hung up quickly, and Jesse stared at his phone for a moment, a smile playing at his lips. Connections, he reminded himself. He was merely in this to make connections. He looked the address over once more, and suddenly, his breath caught in his throat.

He had written on the back of Rachel's letter.

Sick to his stomach, he threw himself onto the bed. What was happening? She was slipping away more and more rapidly, and he felt as though all his attempts to keep her were sliding through his fingers like sand.

With little surprise to anyone, Jesse was cast in Molly's narrative short. HE would be playing Kellan—a young man lamenting the loss of his love, and who, as the film comes to it's climax, helps the audience realize he has killed her. An unoriginal plot, Jesse had to admit, but it was work, and it would be a great exercise for his acting depth. The female lead was being played by a woman from Jersey whom Molly had found online, and who had apparently been in a handful of odd commercials. Jesse liked her—she was dedicated and didn't mess around, and that was the kid of costar he needed. Molly's script was flawed, and he had every intention of changing the dialogue to better fit his character, but it was still _something. _

Rehearsals were strangely smooth. Jesse detested how much e could relate to his character—true, he hadn't murdered Rachel, but he had pushed her away and was now suffering from it. It was definitely something he'd be pulling from to give Kellan credibility.

* * *

December rolled around and with it came the snow. Jesse painfully took up a day job at the Starbucks he used to frequent as a patron, hoping to scrape up just enough money to get by. He would make gingerbread lattes by day and go to rehearsal at Molly's apartment by night. The extra money (and free coffee) was a huge help, and he enjoyed talking to the rushes of caffeine addicts that flowed in and out. Snow piled up outside, and travelers with Christmas packages hurried back and forth.

Jesse was refilling a businessman's to-go cup when the intro to "Oh Holy Night" echoed about the shop. He spilled a bit of coffee on his wrist, and hissing, handed the gentle man his cup. Wiping off his wrist, Jesse poked his head into the manager's office.

"Shelly, who is this?"

"What?" she asked, looking up.

"Singing. This album. Who is it?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I think it's like, _A New York Christmas _or something. They gave them out to all the small companies in the city—"

"Do you have the track list?"

"Jesse you should be working."

"Please Shell, could you find it for me?"

"I'll do my best," she blew him off. Frustrated, Jesse returned to the coffee bar, his routine continuing.

When 4 o'clock rolled around, he threw off his black hat and green apron, and walked back to Shelly's office.

"Shelly?" he poked his head in.

"Here," she held out her arm, not even glancing up. Jesse grabbed it eagerly, searching down the tracklist. There, at track 9 was "Oh Holy Night," but Jesse was no further in his search—the song listed "female vocals" as the performer. Jesse let out a frustrated growl.

"Problem?" Shelly asked. Jesse sighed and shook his head, returning the CD case to her desk. He paused, then shifted.

"Can I borrow this and make a copy?"

"You can do whatever the hell you want Jesse. Just please get the hell out of my office." Jesse switched out the Christmas albums at the stereo and rushed back to his apartment to ready himself for rehearsal. Whether it really was Rachel or it was simply a figment of his imagination, at least having the track would make him feel closer to her, whether it was all pretend or not.

* * *

Jesse sent a birthday card to Rachel's Ohio address with little hope. He begged her to call him; that they needed to talk. He was well aware that it was likely she wasn't even living in the same house, but the promise of possibly getting a hold of her was too great. The morning of her birthday, Jesse stared at his phone for a full 20 minutes before finally dialing Rachel's phone number with baited breath

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service—"

She had changed her number.

Jesse was furious, a fresh stabbing pain burning in his chest. He needed to know why she had disappeared—where she had gone. Mindlessly, he made a phone call.

"Yo?" the voice answered as Jesse ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, before you start threatening my life, let me explain. It's Rachel's birthday and I _need _to talk to her. Help a brother out?"

"Don't ever say _brother _again, and I'll think about it."

"Hey Puck."

"What's good?" the male asked. Jesse let out a sigh, and began to pour his heart out.

"Not much. I miss Rachel, lost my job, and I just…I need to know where she is."

"Well I hate to tell you, sunshine, but you know just as much as I do."

"Sorry?"

"Look, I'm not even supposed to tell you this. But she never came back after you guys broke up. She called me apologizing that she wouldn't be coming back to Glee club, but she refused to tell me why…"

"Why would she do a thing like that?"

"Because of you, douche-face."

"Excuse me?" Jesse's mind was spinning. If Rachel had never gone home, then where _had _she gone?

"I haven't talked to her since September," Puck admitted. Jesse's heart thudded in his chest. Rachel had cut off contact with everyone—but why?

"What the hell…" Jesse sighed in frustration. Puck laughed bitterly.

"I feel you man. Rachel was…I mean…I care about her, which is strange for a guy like me to say. I mean, it's not in any kind of sexual way, which is even _weirder…_" Puck sounded perplexed, and Jesse just slammed his head back against the wall.

"I need to get her back. I messed up royally—"

"You can say that again. You're lucky you still have testicles." Jesse blinked, startled, but continued to speak regardless.

"I'm going to find her. And you're going to help me."

"Dude, look. If Rachel wanted to be found, she would have contacted us already. Let her live her friggin' life." Jesse stared at his phone for a moment. How could it be that it was Noah Puckerman who was the voice of reason, while he attempted to push his every will to find Rachel.

"That's not good enough," Jesse growled.

"It's too damn bad, Jesse. Sometimes you just have to put up with bullshit like this. Like I'm putting up with the fact Quinn is dating some blonde fa—shit, I promised Kurt I wouldn't use that word anymore. Well anyway, Quinn's dating this kid she barely knows, and I just have to deal with it."

"I can't just deal with this, Puckerman. I've been "just dealing with" this for four months now, and I can't do it anymore—"

"She's in New York, you idiot."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I'm officially on holiday now, which means lots and lots of time for writing! I present to you, Chapter 26 in our tale of Jesse and Rachel. When we last left off, Jesse had been informed she was still in the city-but just how close IS she? **

* * *

This shocking reveal was too much for Jesse. It became a kind of neurosis, causing him to search every face on a busy city street or subway to assure himself he wasn't in her presence. So he had been right about everything—from the advertisement on the bus to the audio recording. She was here, within 300 square miles of him every day, and in a city of eight million people, it would be damn near impossible for him to run in to her.

They began shooting Molly's film just before Christmas, and they predicted the shoot would take a little over a month. It went rather smooth; much smoother than Jesse had ever anticipated a film shoot to go, and by the final day before the weeklong hiatus they were taking for the holidays, they had finished shooting the murder flashback. Jesse had made one of the Pas on set cry with his apparently violent and realistic acting, and he took it as a complement, though he was slightly put off that he could play a convincing homicidal maniac. They wrapped that day, and Molly gave a short speech about how impressed she was with everyone's performances. She explained that they would meet once again after the holidays, and sent everyone on their way.

"Jesse wait," she called after him. He froze, and Molly jogged over to him. "Listen, it's no big deal if you're busy, but a bunch of us are having a Christmas Eve party and I just wanted to let you know you're invited. I mean I wouldn't want you to spend the holiday alone…" It was true, Taryn and Seth were going to visit her mother in Jersey, and Jason was going back to Ohio to see his parents. Jesse smiled gratefully at the offer.

"Thanks Molly. I'd love to come," he said earnestly.

"Really?" She sounded surprised, and Jesse laughed.

"Definitely."

"Great! Why don't we meet at the apartment and go to Mike's from there?" Jesse nodded, but inside, his mind was blazing. Were they going _together? _Was this a date? He had been ill prepared for this—to be honest, he hadn't expected it.

Jesse ran excuses through his head over and over—they came together because he hadn't wanted her traveling alone, he hadn't wanted to get lost, they had simply arrived in unison: everything sounded so _fake. _As he straightened his leather jacket and brushed lint off his button down, he took a deep breath. The face looking back at him from the mirror looked uncomfortable and not nearly as confident as Jesse St. James would have once been. It was strange, really. Jesse had been to hundreds of parties with hundreds of girls, but even so, a college party in a strange town with his, in all technicalities of the word, boss? It was a recipe for disaster, especially since he felt like he was betraying Rachel despite the fact that she detested him.

He left the apartment, locking the door behind him, and hurried down the blistering winter streets of New York City. He paused outside her apartment building, looking up and biting his lip nervously. A sharp gust of wind blew past, and just as Jesse went to turn and run the other way, the apartment door cracked open.

"It's about time you got here," Molly complained, laughing. "We're going to be late!" Jesse laughed uncomfortably, and was soon being crammed into the back of a taxi.

He was a small celebrity in the NYU world. Many of Molly's art friends were already in talks with him to audition for _their _productions, and everyone seemed to know his name, despite him never having seen them before. Jesse sat alone on a sofa with a beer for quite some time, answering random students' queries and watching them sloppily hooking up in corners. He was secretly observing two people kissing passionately, both of whom he'd spoken with earlier when they were both of sound-mind. The girl was a music industry student, and the guy was a film student like Molly, only he was interested in lighting.

"Hi Jesse!" Molly sat down beside him, childishly spilling her drink as she sank into the sofa. "Are you having fun?"

"Of course I am, Molly," Jesse assured her politely.

"Well then come on!" she said, taking his hand and pulling him up. "I refuse to let my favorite actor sit here moping. Come hang out with us!" Jesse wanted to protest, but he was handed a shot of tequila and salt was poured viciously onto his hand.

"To our star!" someone shouted, and Jesse willingly downed the drink, making a bitter face. People cheered, and Molly wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

"My star! I found him," she grinned. Jesse laughed and sipped his beer, contemplating. He had to admit it was nice being at a college party. It made him feel like he belonged—even more than he had in the cast of Chess. A guilty feeling grew in his stomach—if he had gone to UCLA, would it be like this all the time? Would he have a large group of friends instead of feeling so alone?

It was obvious Jesse belonged with the artsy kids. Obvious that he needed to be with people his own age that appreciated the same things he did. Kids who shared his affinity for black clothing and with whom he could genuinely feel a connection. It was this feeling that Jesse felt he had severely missed out on choosing not to attend college, and that he was starting to deeply regret now that he had nothing left.

It was three-thirty by the time he and Molly left Mike's apartment, stumbling home in the freezing winds.

"I live this way," Molly mumbled stupidly. Jesse nodded, and made to continue his venture home.

"Right. Well goodnight then. Merry Christmas." He turned away, but Molly let out a frustrated sigh.

"Wait, Jesse," she spoke.

"Yes?"

"I…" she began, but then she stopped, furrowing her brow. "You have a good Christmas too, okay?" Jesse stared at her for a moment, puzzled. It was evident she desired to say something else, but she was already walking the opposite direction, flagging down a taxi. He watched her go, but the moment he turned away to flag down his own cab, the guilty feeling had dissolved from his insides.

* * *

When Jesse woke to a freezing, empty apartment Christmas day, he had to bitterly laugh at himself—really living out the starving outset dream, and although he could have been bitter, he was thankful he'd made it this far.

It took him at least an hour to notice the perfectly wrapped package beneath the shabby Christmas tree. At first, Jesse believed he was imagining it—who could have even thought of him—but when he finally picked it up, his mind began to race. Setting his coffee mug on an issue of "Backstage Magazine," he carefully removed the wrapping paper and let out a low laugh. Whoever his secret Santa had been, they knew him well. There in his hands was "Finishing the Hat," the Stephen Sondheim biography and collection of his lyrics. He ran his fingers along the binding and the raised letters on the cover. There had been no card, no name, and Jesse was _sure _it hadn't been there the night before. Even more confused, Jesse flipped through the book, his eyes catching photos and lyrics. Finally, he opened the book to the inner cover, and let out a gasp. In a small, messy scrawl, someone had written:

_Jesse, _

_Don't let melancholia get the better of you._

_Best, _

_Stephen_

There was no way that Stephen could be Stephen Sondheim, just no way. Beside the signature, however, Jesse's eyes lingered on a gold star sticker placed carefully on the page. Gold stars were kinda her thing.

Jesse let out a low growl of frustration and anguish. Sometime during the night, Rachel had been here—been so close he could have touched her, but instead he'd been out all night, getting drunk with idiotic college students, flirting with a girl he had no desire to be with. If he'd just stayed in, it was possible that he would have seen her, that he would have been able to get her back.

Rachel still cared about him, of that Jesse was sure. Otherwise, she wouldn't have gone out of her way to purchase him an autographed copy of the book, out of her way to drop it off, risking the chance of seeing him. Why did she care enough to give him a Christmas gift but not enough to call him and tell him where she was?

* * *

Selfishly, Jesse agreed to accompany Molly to a New Years' party solely because he enjoyed being close with the college students, and was unlikely to receive an invitation any other way. Jesse had to admit he was rather excited for the holiday; he had gone out and purchased some new clothes with some of the Christmas money his mother had secretly mailed him. She had insisted it was a gift, but Jesse knew better—she was making sure he had enough money to survive, and he had to admit, he was thankful. He'd wanted to call her and thank her, but he couldn't risk his father answering the phone and the conflict that would ultimately result. Wearing his new Gap jeans, a sweater, and his trusty leather jacket, Jesse made the trip to Molly's apartment once more, that same unhappy anxious feeling in his stomach. He stood awkwardly outside her building, and then finally punched in her apartment number with dreading fingers.

"Hi, come on up, I'll be ready in five minutes," her voice squawked through the speaker. Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets and awkwardly ascended the staircase, finally knocking on the door of 42-B.

"Come on in!" the voice called, and Jesse pushed the door open carefully. Molly's apartment was always so cluttered, and Jesse shoved a pile of things over in order to sit on the sofa. The walls were lined with movie posters, and she had a DVD collection to rival Netflix. There was a bicycle leaning against the wall being used as some sort of clothes rack, and piles upon piles of paper scattered the floor. Jesse sat, observing for what felt like hours, until finally, he heard a bedroom door clothes, and footsteps echo down the hall.

"Sorry, my hair took forever," she explained. Shocked, Jesse stared at the girl. She had foregone her usual tee –shirt, jeans, and sneakers ensemble for a green dress paired with stockings and heels, her hair was curled carefully into ringlets, and most strikingly, she had chosen not to wear her glasses.

"Wow, Molly, you look great," Jesse said, and she grinned.

"What can I say? I try," she joked. As she slid on her winter things, Jesse scowled and patronized himself. He wasn't interested her—he couldn't behave this way.

They made it to the party by 8, and the NYU crew cheered heartily when they saw Jesse St. Yeagerbomb had arrived. Mike handed him a glass of wine and grinned—they were attempting to be as classy as possible, but there were still people taking shots in the corner. Hord'eurves were being served on a table, and Jesse loaded up a golden plate with spinach puffs and cheese.

Jesse became involved in several intellectual conversations about music and art, while Molly chatted about Stan Brakeage and experimental film with her classmates. Jesse caught her eye across the room and smiled—he really did owe her a lot.

"I'm just saying, I find the idea of them changing it after they've already changed it redundant and dull. I personally think the changes worked for the better."

"Sorry, what are we talking about?" Jesse asked, embarrassed that he'd lost track of the conversation.

"We're just discussing the pretense of Broadway," the girl he'd been speaking with explained.

"What do you mean?" Jesse questioned. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Do you remember how a few years ago they rewrote parts of West Side Story in Spanish because they felt it would give it a more authentic feeling? Well apparently it's been taken so negatively that they're going to go back to the original score, and I think that's ludicrous. I think they should keep the changes, I think they work."

"I've told you, I saw it, and it was awful. I mean, when I go see West Side Story, I want to be able to understand why it is the Jets and Sharks are fighting, not have to bring my pocket translator to understand a goddamn word anyone is saying!" a man cried in frustration, taking a sip of his mixed drink.

"I have to agree," Jesse admitted. "I mean really, if it had been meant to be written in Spanish…." Jesse began, and then laughed. "You know, I actually just received _'Finishing the Hat' _as a Christmas gift. You really should read it, I think you'd appreciate it."

After lunging into an hour-long discussion about Sondheim and the peaks and valleys of his career, Jesse had managed to make acquaintances with a large group of NYU theatre kids who appreciated his theories and knowledge on everything. Most had been stunned to learn that Jesse hadn't gone to school, and while some marveled at his gall, others thought he was a moron. By ten, everyone began to depart for Times Square—they were going to celebrate the holiday in style.

Jesse, Molly, and a group of her friends squished together in the crowd, with barely a view of the large glowing orb in the sky. People were cheering and screaming, and Jesse was quickly handed party hats and "2011" glasses.

"You're not festive enough!" an old woman explained as she handed him Mardi Gras beads. Jesse had to admit; it was an experience that he never believed he would have had when he was younger. He had always thought that only drunken idiots went to Times Square, and while there were a fair share of them around, Jesse realized that it was a bonding experience with friends and people who he could connect with.

As the moments to midnight started to grow, the anticipation in the crowd began to swell. Jesse was enveloped up in the excitement and joy and Mike handed the group (the ones who had managed to stay together anyway) plastic champagne glasses and filled each one with champagne he pulled from a cooler.

"Don't drink it until midnight!" he warned.

As the final minute counted down, Jesse's mind began to run over the last twelve months of his life. Last January, he had met the girl of his dreams; he just hadn't known it at the time. Six months later, he'd run away with her to New York City, and now, six months after that, they were both in the large city, Jesse wondering just where Rachel Barbra Berry had gone.

"10, 9, 8…"

It had been such a complicated year that he'd never expected—

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1…"

And then Molly kissed him.

He hadn't expected it, that was certain. His mind had been fully on Rachel, wondering what she was doing, how she was spending the holiday, and then the other girl's lips had crashed into his; champagne spilling from his plastic flute.

"Happy New Year," she giggled, smiling. Jesse just continued to stare at her, puzzled, heart thundering.

"Molly," he began, and she just grinned cheekily. "Molly," he said again, and she looked at him quizzically. Jesse knew he was risking all; risking his job, risking the parties, risking the friends. But he also knew that if didn't explain the truth; his own guilt would grab him by the shirt collar and shake him until he cracked.

"What Jesse?" Molly asked. She was so innocent—it really wasn't her fault.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" he asked, and he thought he saw a glimmer in her eye.

"Sure!" she said, and Jesse closed his eyes in frustration. How could he possibly explain to her the conversation they were about to have would never end well? They bid farewell to the group, Mike giving him an approving wink, to which Jesse shook his head sternly. The pair walked down the busy street, greeting everyone they met with a "Happy New Year." Finally they saw a café that was still open for the New Years' city-goers to warm up and purchase hot beverages. Jesse bought them both a hot chocolate and sat down with Molly in the corner.

"I'm glad you asked me to come here, Jesse," Molly smiled. Jesse sighed and set his drink down.

"Molly, look. I need to get right to the point."

"What's wrong Jesse?"

"Molly, there's…there can't be anything between us. You need to know that."

"Oh Jesse, I understand how hesitant you might be about actor and director, but I'm sure it can work, look at Tim and Helen—"

"No, Molly, I'm in love with someone, and I need you to respect that. I know this isn't exactly the best way to go about this but I didn't want you to get hurt thinking that something could happen." Molly was staring at him, an unreadable look in her eyes.

"You're in love with someone?" she finally spoke, and Jesse nodded.

"Six months ago I moved here with my girlfriend. That's why I didn't go to college, we moved here together to be on Broadway. She didn't do so well, and we fought, and she left me. But she's still somewhere in this city, and I have to find her Molly." Molly let out a bitter laugh.

"I'm so stupid," she commented, and Jesse shook his head.

"You're not," he said. "I should have been honest with you." Molly looked at the floor, Jesse searching for anything to say to make the situation any less awkward. Finally, after what felt like ages, Molly spoke.

"What's she like?"

After Molly assured Jesse that their platonic relationship wouldn't change because of this newfound information, the pair walked back to Molly's apartment, and Jesse bid her goodnight.

"You're a good kid, Jesse," Molly admitted.

"I used to be a huge asshole," Jesse laughed, and Molly giggled.

"Used to be?"

"Deserved that," Jesse admitted, and Molly smiled.

"Goodnight Jesse," she waved, and Jesse nodded to her. She started up the front steps to her apartment building, but then turned. "Hey Jesse?"

"Yes?"

"I hope you find her."

"Me too Mol. Me too."

* * *

**A/N: Patience children! I'm giving you what you want, aren't I? They shared the same space-just not at the same time! Just stick with me folks-she's closer than we think. **


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: I had every intention of waiting a few days to post this, but three of my favorite celebrity couples broke up today, so I figured, you know, we need a little relationship happiness in the world So I present to you chapter 27 of L&I. Perhaps Jesse will finally find out the mystery that has been haunting him for months: Where exactly is Rachel Berry?**

* * *

Jesse was disappointed to finish shooting Molly's project. The crew swore they would keep in touch with him, and the last few weeks after "the incident" had only made Molly and Jesse's friendship stronger. Upon wrapping of the film, Jesse began to take on more hours at the Starbucks, and he even went so low as to post his headshot on CraigsList.

When the end of January came and his only job caused him to come home reeking of coffee everyday, things looked bleak. Even Taryn and Seth had picked up a deal with a (very minor) recording label, and were in the studio almost every day trying to perfect their first album. By February, everyone was tired of Jesse's moping, and Jesse's life seemed like it was on course for disaster.

That February day started off quite ordinarily. It was snowing, it was cold, and Jesse had just gotten off working a morning shift at the 'Bucks. Exhausted, he slumped on the sofa, and fell asleep. Strangely enough, this not-so-special morning was the one that changed _everything. _

Whether or not Jesse would have found it on his own was undetermined. Whether it was a random course of events or several connected moments, the only thing that was clear was that it all stemmed from Jason actually deciding to pick up and read his copy of "Backstage Magazine," that month. It was entirely possible that the issue would have gone untouched, just as months and months of previous ones had, piling under the coffee table.

"Hey. Hey. Jesse. Wake up!" Jason shook him. Jesse stirred irritably—what could possibly be so important that it required him being awoken?

"What the hell could you possibly want?" Jesse asked, sitting up. Jason looked like a child on Christmas, and Jesse worried—that look was usually reserved for attractive women and booze.

"One word. Newsies."

"Sorry?"

"Three words. Newsies the Musical."

"What are you talking about?" Jesse asked. Jason rolled his eyes, and shoved the magazine into Jesse's hands.

"Newsies the Musical! They're finally making it into a show, and this is it! This is our one-way ticket onto the big stages of Broadway. Look, the article right there, it says they're looking for fresh, new talent!"

"And you think they would cast us?" Jesse raised an eyebrow, and Jason nodded.

"Jesse, come on. You and I both know we _kill_ at those songs. This is a sign, man. We're meant to audition for this."

"What about Wicked?" Jesse asked, and Jason rolled his eyes.

"Screw Wicked! If I never have to wear fur and screech while chafing my balls on a harness again, I'll be the happiest man on earth." Jesse snorted, and Jason punched his arm. "Seriously dude, think about this. This is like our dream, and it's right there. If you don't do this, you'll hate yourself for the rest of your life." Jesse still wasn't convinced, and Jason stood up, taking back the magazine.

"Jesse, if you're part of the original cast of "Newsies the Musical," do you really think there's any chance that Rachel _won't _know and won't see you?" Jason asked, smirking. Jesse blinked a few times, and then looked at his friend.

"When are auditions?"

"Yes!" Jason shrieked, jumping in the air excitedly. "I love you! You are my best friend and this is going to be amazing," the two males hugged, and Jason danced around the room again. He ripped the information out of the magazine, and threw it back onto the coffee table, sprinting back to his room. "I've got to look for sheet music!"

Jesse however, couldn't be bothered to think about sheet music. In fact, he couldn't be bothered to think about _anything_. Was this some cruel trick; some kind of mirage? His hand reached out the two feet before him, and sure enough, the magazine was real, the article was real, and sure as _hell, _that photograph was real. There, on page thirty-eight of Backstage Magazine, was Rachel Barbra Berry. Her hair was much shorter, just a bit past her chin, but her smile was exactly the same. She looked stunning, standing in front of a white backdrop, laughing; god, how he missed that laugh. Holding the magazine with shaky hands, Jesse began to read the article, his breath hitching.

"_Berry, Berry Lucky_

_by Jeff Spencer_

_How a sixteen year old from Lima, Ohio has become Broadway's new sweetheart._

_Rachel Berry sits confidently on the sofa across from me, a smile plastered on her fresh face. She takes everything in with wide, wondrous eyes, and is pleased to answer anything we ask. "I'm glad we made time to do [the interview], rehearsals have been quite intense, but [the role] is all worth it, obviously. I couldn't possibly ask for anything more." She flashes that smile again, and I have to laugh._

_Rachel Berry has been Broadway's best-kept secret for the past five months. A teenager who grew up in Ohio, Berry will be making her debut as Maria when West Side Story opens again this coming May, and Backstage Magazine has your first exclusive interview:_

_**BM**: Obviously, everyone's wondering how you got the role. As a shot out of left field with no prior Broadway experience, how did you manage [casting]?:_

_**Berry**: I adore when people ask me this question because it's such a chaotic and truly remarkable story. I had just left my boyfriend whom I was living with at the time, and was on my way to Grand Central. I was in this cab with all of my things, and I must have looked simply dreadful because I'd been crying, and our producer, Shane, was also in the cab and he kept looking over to me, and I just kept thinking, "Is [the producer] going to hurt me, is he crazy?" and then finally he turns to me and asks if I had previously auditioned for Billy Elliot, which I had, and he introduced himself and explained that he'd recently taken up a job as the producer for West Side Story. He insisted that I come to auditions and I had to explain that I was leaving so he called the casting director and I ended up going in for an audition that day, all the things from my apartment sitting in the lobby of the theatre. [she laughs]_

_**BM**: So you had been on your way back to Ohio, what did you do about that? _

_**Berry**: Well my dads actually hadn't known I was living in New York, they'd thought I was just visiting with my biological mother, so after they got over their initial fury they were very supportive and actually moved up [to New York] to a city apartment with me. [My dads] have been great. And as much as I disliked having to choose not to further my education, I simply could not allow a role like this to pass me by, obviously._

_**BM**: How does it feel to follow in Natalie Wood's footsteps, being a Jew in the role of Maria?_

_**Berry**: Natalie Wood has been one of my heroes since I was a young girl. I mean I've felt I had a personal connection to Maria from the age of one, and I feel that stemmed from Natalie's simply phenomenal portrayal. _

_**BM**: Some critics were worried you were "a little too Barbra." How did you handle this? _

_**Berry**: Well clearly we haven't had performances other than the ones closed to the public, but I hope that people can learn to appreciate the character for how I have chosen to portray her. Barbra is my idol, so yes, some of my vocal training has stemmed from years of adoring her voice, but I've also done my best to give both myself and Maria the individuality we strive for. _

_**BM**: Was it true that the score was changed because of your inability to speak the Spanish language? _

_**Berry**: You know, that's a common misconception, actually. They were planning on changing it before I even auditioned; it was merely my casting that caused [the directors] to confirm the change. Can we move on to the next question please? _

_**BM**: Your first real experience on the stage and in the studio was 'Broadway Does Christmas.' How was that?_

_**Berry**: That was amazing, I honestly cannot even tell you. I thrive on applause, so hearing that theatre ringing was phenomenal. And I recorded my song the same day as Adam Pascal and Laura Bell Bundy, so meeting them was just a complete dream come true. _

_**BM**: You mentioned before that you had been leaving your boyfriend at the time of auditions. Has your love life improved at all since becoming Broadway's Sweetheart?_

_**Berry**: [laughs] I'm not sure this is appropriate to discuss. To be completely honest, no, it hasn't changed, and I'm not really looking for it to. Part of the reason I left was because I needed to assure myself I could be independent and reach my goals, and that's precisely what I've done by estranging myself from having a male companion._

_As Rachel Berry returns to the stage and begins to belt out pristine notes for "Somewhere," I am stunned by the large voice that comes out of such a little creature. It is quite possible that Berry will be part of the great renaissance of Broadway musicals, and I am confident she will become a household name to stay over her inevitably long career._

_West Side Story will re-open May 9__th__ at the Palace Theatre_

So this is where she had been all this time? She had been hidden in plain sight, exactly where he wouldn't think to look. Jesse continued to stare at the images of Rachel in the magazine, and it simply fed the burning hunger to see her face in person. Wordlessly, Jesse ripped the pages from the magazine and grabbed his leather jacket.

Twenty minutes later, Jesse was in front of the Palace Theatre, heart thundering into his throat. She was just inside that theatre, just inside those doors. Shaking, he reached out to push them open, but was met with severe resistance—

They were locked. He probably shouldn't have been surprised, it was a major production, after all, and it was apparent they'd been trying to keep everything very low profile until they were ready to open. But Jesse couldn't stop—he _had _to get in there, he _had _to see her. He rushed around to the side door, where he was met with a rather severe looking security guard.

"Excuse me kid, where do you think you're going?"

"Please, sir, I just really need to see Rachel Berry."

"Oh really? Well then, let me just let you right in," the security guard jeered. "Get out of here."

"You don't understand, she's a friend of mine and—"

"Yeah, everyone's a friend once they're famous. If you know what's good for you you'll hightail it out of here right now. No one's allowed in, not even _friends." _Jesse groaned, looking towards the theatre. She was _right there. _"Look kid, I'm going to give you ten seconds, and then I'm going to _force _you to get out of here." Jesse glared at the guard, and then hurried off in the opposite direction. Jesse wasn't sure what he could do; granted, he could he wait there all night until he saw Rachel come out of the theatre, but he was sure the security guard would kill him did. Then, the wheels in Jesse's mind began turning.

Jesse knew what had to happen. He _had _to audition for Newsies, and he _had _to get a role. Once Rachel saw that he had been successful as well, there was no way she could stay away. And if she still ignored him, then he _had_ to go to the premiere of West Side Story.

It would be a long journey to the top.

Jason and Jesse rehearsed relentlessly for "Newsies." They needed to be at the top of their game, and neither male had any shame in admitting to the other that their performance hadn't been top.

"Jason, that sucked," Jesse admitted after Jason had gone into a six-minute dance interlude in the middle of "Dancing Through Life." "The dance bit is just too much, and I still think it's cheating using something from a show you're already in."

"Well I'm sorry we can't all choose the most depressing songs ever to audition with."

"'Being Alive' is not depressing. It has jazz sax in it when performed on stage!" The two looked at one another, and then Jason giggled.

"Jazz sax…" The two burst into laughter, and Jesse turned back to the piano.

"Okay, let's take 'Dancing' once more from the top."

Although Jesse's mind continuously went back to the fact that he now knew exactly where Rachel was and what she was doing, he concentrated heavily on perfecting his audition for 'Newsies.' When the day of auditions arrived, he was confident—more confident than he had ever been for any of the auditions before.

"Remember kid, this is our show. We're meant for this," Jason pumped him up as they stepped into the theatre lobby. They had made a pact there would be no hard feelings regardless of the results—whether one or neither made it they would remain friends. Jason's audition was first, and Jesse waited impatiently in the lobby with a kid who looked about thirteen and a woman who looked about thirty. He ran his lines over and over in his head; rehearsed his song, humming a few notes to warm up his voice. It was strange really—he hadn't had nearly as much riding on his other auditions, yet he was far less nervous for this than he had been for any previous ones.

Call him cocky, but Jesse knew that things were going to work out this time. He wasn't sure why; wasn't sure if it was mere stupidity or a true gut feeling, but he was confident that both he and Jason would have roles. Jason emerged from the theatre looking white and pale, however, and Jesse's confidence began to dissipate.

It nearly vanished once he walked into the theatre. Jesse would recognize those faces anywhere—Alan Menken and Harvey Fierstein were sitting in seats in the third row. Trying to gather himself, Jesse closed his eyes briefly and mentally reminded himself to breathe.

"Hi, my name is Jesse St. James," he said, and there were a few chortles.

"Well _that's _a stage name," Mr. Fierstein called out, and Jesse politely smiled.

"Thank you sir."

"So what will you be performing for us, Jesse?" the director called out, and Jesse took a breath.

"Being Alive, from Sondheim's 'Company.'" He explained, and received pleased nods from his small audience. The piano began, and swallowing his nerves along with his pride, Jesse plowed forward, knowing that he had to completely knock them out.

In a perfect world, Jesse would have completely astounded them with his talent. They would have been speechless, and when he launched into his monologue they would have been knocked off their feet in amazement. In a perfect world they would have bid him goodbye with smiles, the director even going so far as to mention, "I have a feeling we'll see you again soon, Jesse St. James." In a perfect world, Jason's audition would have gone just as well, and the two would have returned home excitedly, stopping for celebratory pizza and a beer on the way home.

And that's _exactly _what happened.

They had barely sat down to enjoy their pizza and beverages when Jason's phone began buzzing. Jesse tried to enjoy his food and avoid eavesdropping, but it was nearly impossible when he saw the overjoyed expression hit Jason's face.

"Absolutely! I…oh my god, of course. Yes. Yes, I can be there by five. Yes. Mmmhmm. Thank you so much! Buh-bye." Jason shut his phone, and stared blankly at the table for a good twenty seconds before turning to Jesse.

"We have callbacks."

"What?" Jesse asked, choking on a bit of crust. "How? We only auditioned an hour ago!"

"I know! But yeah, that was Carol with casting, and she said she was hoping that I could come back around five because they would love for me to come in and perform with this kid Jesse who auditioned today and she would call back if he couldn't make it."

"You don't know that she's talking about m—" Jesse began to reason, but then his own phone lit up from the table. Looking disbelievingly at Jason, Jesse answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Jesse St. James? This is Carol Chandler with the casting office at "Newsies," how are you doing today? "

They were in the theatre lobby once more by four forty-five. Jesse was still in shock—things like this didn't happen, you weren't called back on the same day you auditioned for a major Broadway premiere production, especially when you were a new, fresh face. But then again, you normally weren't picked up in a taxi and brought to an audition with your every possession, and that was precisely what had happened to Rachel.

And as unbelievable as it was that three nobodies from rural Ohio could come to the big city and make it big, it happened. Jesse and Jason were immediately cast as Jack and David, the two leads of the show, and Rachel was off making a name for herself as Maria.

This was it. These were the big leagues.

Jesse St. James was a Broadway star.

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**A/N: Well now you know! But will Jesse's success bring him any closer to Rachel? Stay tuned to find out! =] And remember, reviews make my life! **


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: So first off, let me preface by saying that if you all want to murder me for not updating in three months, I completely understand. School just got to be ridiculously hectic, I went through a miserable breakup, and I had to spend most of my time doing schoolwork. So, now that that's done (at least for a while) I decided I definitely owed it to you guys to get a few new chapters up over the next week or so. I am SO sorry that it took so long, but I hope that you can respect it and that these chapters live up to your expectations! When we last left Jesse, he'd just been cast as the lead in the Broadway production of "Newsies." Will he let fame get to his already inflated ego, or will it just boost him up the ranks and make it all that much easier to catch up with Rachel? Let's find out. As always, reviews are like fuel to my muse's fire, and I wanted to thank all of my loyal readers once more. Okay, here we go! **

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The rumors began flying about Jesse St. James the moment people began to hear about his casting. The kids from NYU boasted about being friends with him first, and Molly excitedly promoted her short film by adding "Star of Newsies" to his credit. The internet lit up with rumors that he had, "Stolen the part from right under Zac Efron's nose," and Jesse had yet to hear if there was any validity to this rumor.

The congratulations began pouring in after Jason and Jesse were confirmed to the cast. Jesse's mother was unbelievably proud of him, although his father still thought he was throwing his life away. Regardless, Jesse was thrilled, and knew he had one person that he truly had to thank, aside from the one person he _couldn't_—at least not yet.

"Hello?"

"Shelby Corcoran, I think I love you."

"Jesse, what the hell? Are you drunk?"

"Drunk with excitement, maybe! Ahhh Shelby you're never going to believe it…" Jesse went on to recount the story of his audition and his casting, and by the end of it, Shelby was speechless—a trait she very seldom carried.

"You…you're in a Broadway show," she said finally, and Jesse laughed.

"I'm the _lead _in a Broadway show, Shelby, and it's all because of you!"

"This is insane…" she said. In all her years of teaching, she'd never had a student actually achieve success, despite how hard she tried to beat talent into them.

"This is fantastic," Jesse replied. "I promise, Shell, I'll mail you tickets and you can come up and see it and it'll be fantastic."

"How did you kids get so talented?" she asked, and then Jesse heard her gasp. "Shit," she mumbled, and Jesse laughed.

"Don't worry, Shelby, I already know. She's all over the papers up here. Had her own interview in Backstage Magazine." Shelby let out a relieved breath, and Jesse continued. "I'm gonna win her back, you know."

"You mean you haven't moved on?" Shelby sounded shocked, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Look, Shelby. I know it's hard to believe because well…I was kind of a dick in high school, but your daughter changed me—"

"Oh god, Jesse, I don't need to hear all this—"

"Seriously, Shelby. It's going to happen. We're going to get back together."

"Jesse," Shelby said warningly, but the young man ignored the foresight in her voice and continued on.

"I've been invited to the premiere and everything. My buddy Jason and I are going. Jason's the one I live with who just also happens to be my costar," Jesse explained. Shelby let out a groan.

"Jesse, listen. Don't you think it's possible that maybe she doesn't _want _to see you?" Shelby questioned tentatively. "I mean if she wanted to talk to you she would have come to you by now…"

"That's a lie. She's just confused, she's just scared and lost and she doesn't know that I still love her—"

"Jesse, she left, and now she's happier than she's ever been before. Don't you think that stands for something?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, okay?" Jesse's defenses were starting to build up; he was closing himself off again—something he hadn't done in months. "Look Shelby, I appreciate your concern, and I get it. She's your daughter, and she's living your dream and you want to live vicariously through her and you don't want anything to get in the way of that—"

"Jesse," Shelby growled warningly.

"No, look. I get it, okay? But I love her. I _love _her, Shelby, and I need to get her back."

"I just don't want to see either of you getting hurt."

"I've already been hurt, Shelby. I honestly doubt that I could feel any worse than I do when I wake up every morning and she's not here."

"And I can't feel any worse than I do when I wake up and realize that this is all my fault. I never should have let you guys go away. She was a child for god's sake, and I just let her run away. Because you're right, I had some strange hope that maybe she _would _be successful, that I _could _live vicariously through her," Shelby's voice sounded milky, and Jesse could only assume that she had started crying. "I blame myself, Jesse. I'm so proud of her, but to think what could have happened to her because I was so careless…" Shelby trailed off. "Listen, Jesse. I just really don't think it's a good idea for you to continue to pursue her," Shelby warned, but Jesse let out a growl.

"No. Shelby, you're wrong. She _needs _me," he insisted.

"You're an idiot," Shelby quipped, and Jesse grimaced, his knuckles white. "Do you really think she's going to want to come back to the man who held her back?"

"Held her back?" Jesse nearly shouted, astounded. "_I _held her back? I brought her to this city! I gave her every opportunity she could ask for! You want to talk about holding her back, let's talk about Hudson. But don't you dare accuse me of not giving her everything I could, Shelby," his heart was thundering. "You know what, this is your fault. If you hadn't used me as your goddamn gopher and introduced me to her in the first place, we never would have had this situation," Jesse furiously slammed his phone shut and ran a hand through his hair. Never in his life had he yelled at Shelby like that, but who did she think she was, telling him how to live his life?

* * *

It was bizarre, being the star of a show as opposed to swaying uncomfortably in the background. He was respected, he was catered to, and people knew his name; people knew who he was. When he Googled himself, the results didn't just turn up his Facebook and some Show Choir websites, it turned up pages and pages of Broadway websites and blogs, many of which had teenage girls simply _fawning _over him.

Jesse was standing in line at Starbucks, waiting for his skinny white chocolate mocha with extra espresso and soy, when a girl who couldn't have been much younger than him approached with a wide grin.

"Are you Jesse St. James?" she asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He laughed and nodded, and she let out a tiny little squeal. "Oh my god I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. I'm a huge fan of yours; I think you're absolutely perfect for the role. I can't wait for the Original Recording to be available, I already have it pre-ordered, not to mention I have _all _your music…" Jesse blinked a few times as she rambled, and then furrowed his brows.

"Wait, my music?" The girl laughed and nodded.

"Well yeah, from your Vocal Adrenaline days, obviously! They're all online!" she explained, reddening a little. "I really love your version of 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' there's even a video recording of that. You're a great dancer, although I'm not entirely sure that pink is your color…"

Jesse's mind was spinning. He hadn't even performed in front of the public—how could he possibly have a fanbase? The barista handed him his coffee with a smirk, and the girl bounced again.

"Oh would there be any way I could get a picture with you? My friends will never believe that I actually met you!" The girl grinned wildly as he nodded, and Jesse slid an arm around her as she asked a middle-aged man in a business suit to take their photo. "Oh thank you so much," the girl beamed, and then with one more hopeful look, asked him for an autograph.

"Wh…well yeah, sure," Jesse answered, taken aback. "I…I don't have paper or a pen or anything," he admitted, and the barista handed him a sharpie and a clean cardboard sleeve, biting back another laugh. Jesse gave her a grin and turned back to the young girl.

"So who can I make this out to?" he asked, the feeling of celebrity finally kicking in. The girl squealed again and clasped her hands.

"Rae. R-A-E." Jesse, who had been perfecting his signature for as long as he could remember, scribbled a quick message on the cardboard: T_o Rae, one of my first big fans—JSJ_

"Rae, that's pretty," he commented, and the girl beamed proudly, glancing at her shoes.

"Thank you! It's short for Rachel."

The name was like knives in Jesse's heart. Even with every intention to pursue her, the sound of Rachel's name made his heart ache, especially after his confrontation with Shelby. He's spent countless nights awake, pondering what Shelby had told him—maybe Rachel _did _want to be left alone, so was it the best idea to pursue her in such a public fashion? He realized he was staring blankly at the autograph and smiling, handed it to the fan.

"You're _amazing, _Jesse!" she laughed. "I swear, I'm coming to see the show opening weekend, I promise!" she turned on her heel and glanced over her shoulder once more as she ran out of the coffee shop.

"Wait, you forgot your drink…" he called after her, but it was too late—she was already out the door and skipping down the sidewalk.

"First time?" the barista asked, and Jesse chuckled.

"How could you tell?" he asked playfully. The woman rolled her eyes, grinning, and set a green tea frappe on the counter.

"It gets easier," she assured him. "You'll get used to it—took poor Aspen months though," she commented before turning back to her work, and Jesse sighed, taking a sip of his latte.

"Well look at you, Mr. Bigshot Celebrity," a voice called fro behind him. Spinning, Jesse broke into a wide grin.

"Marishka!" he cried, opening his arms for a hug. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, then looked up to him cheerfully.

"So how the hell are you?" she asked, leaning against the bar; smirk on her face. Jesse grinned and shrugged casually.

"Oh you know, just being famous," he waved his hand flippantly, and Marishka rolled her eyes.

"You're such a dick," she giggled, and Jesse shrugged.

"So how about you? How is life?" Marishka shrugged herself, and drummed her fingers on the bar.

"Can't complain. Got a stable little gig in a dance studio; nothing huge, but it pays my rent, so…" she shrugged her right shoulder again. "But you, look at you! Everyone's so damn proud of you," she shook his arm.

"Yeah. You're going to come see it, right?"

"That depends. How many comp tickets do you get?" she teased. Jesse opened his mouth, puzzled, and Marishka laughed. "I'm only kidding!" she continued to giggle. "Of course I'll be there! I'll bring Tony…I mean…I'll bring most of the 'Chess' dancers," she added sheepishly, and it was at that moment Jesse noticed the rock on her perfectly manicured ring finger.

"Marishka!" Jesse shrieked, grabbing the hand, "What? Who?" Marishka blushed and tried to hide her hand, laughing all the while.

"Uh…Tony."

"You're marrying _Tony?" _Jesse nearly yelled, causing a few people in the Starbucks to glance at them uncomfortably. "Holy shit, wow!" he enveloped her into a tight hug. "When?"

"We haven't set a date," she explained, "But we started seeing each other after the show closed, and he proposed on Valentine's Day," she giggled.

"Holy crap," Jesse stood, his body overwhelmed with shock. These were the first of his friends to become engaged, to love each other so much they wanted to make such a major commitment. "That's so awesome, Marishka," he sipped his coffee and she chewed on her lip.

"What…what about you?" she asked tentatively. Jesse shifted uncomfortably and shrugged.

"Well, I mean…I know where she is, but…that is to say…I mean, I'll be going to see her in West Side Story…"

"Wait, what?" Marishka stared at him.

"She's starring in the West Side Story reboot," Jesse explained, and Marishka's jaw dropped.

"Hold up, that's _your _Rachel?" she questioned, shocked.

"Um, yes, why?" Jesse replied, furrowing his brow.

"Because, she's amazing!" Marishka gushed. "She spoke at a seminar I was at, I guess I just never put the names together. She's crazy talented, you guys must be unstoppable together!" Marishka stopped suddenly, acknowledging her mistake, but Jesse simply nodded wistfully.

"Yeah. We are," he smiled sadly.

"Well look, I'm sure everything is going to work out swimmingly. You're both stars now, it's only a matter of time before you run into each other," she pointed out, and Jesse nodded.

"Fingers crossed, right?" he smirked.

"Well hey, expect a call from me eventually so that I can get your address for a wedding invite, okay?" Marishka asked, and Jesse grinned.

"Of course. And here," he grabbed the sharpie that was still on the counter and two cardboard holders, "For you and Tony," he explained, scrawling his signature and handing them off to Marishka.

"Well thanks," she said with a giggle. "It was great to see you Jesse," she added earnestly.

"You too," he smiled, "And congratulations again." As he watched her go, a smile formed on his face, growing wider as he contemplated her words.

Marishka was right. He was a celebrity now, and it was only a matter of time.

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**A/N: Stay tuned for Jesse's first red carpet appearance, and more importantly-Rachel's Broadway Debut!**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Another chapter for you guys, I didn't want to keep you waiting too long! Finally the day is here-Rachel's Broadway debut, and more importantly, Jesse's chance to win her back. But will everything go quite as he expects? Let's find out! As always, reviews are fodder to my muse, so please, I'd love some! **

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Jesse had never truly realized just how little he enjoyed suits. Shelby had always been more of a fan of cummerbunds and ties than full on jackets, and Jesse was sure the last tuxedo he'd worn was a wedding when eh was about seven. So as he stood with Jason in the shop being measured and fondled by a man who could have been a dead ringer for that kid from New Directions—Kirk or something—he quickly found his mind drifting, becoming a bit ancy.

"Will you stop moving?" the man complained, "If I prick you it is _not _my fault." He continued to measure and pin, while Jason, who was already finished, stood chatting up the pretty blonde girl at the register.

"I'm going to be famous, you know," he was saying, and Jesse rolled his eyes, biting back a snicker. It had only been a year, but his other life felt as though it were eons ago. His other life, when it would have been _him _shamelessly flirting with the cashier. When he spent Saturday nights after all-day rehearsals getting wasted in Gisele's backyard, despite Andrea's objections. When she would drop him off at his house at three in the morning and he would have no recollection of how he made it back to bed. And even when he'd first started seeing Rachel, he still hadn't been entirely sure how to behave like a fully committed individual, but she had taught him—she'd taught him so much: about life, about love, about himself. Shelby was wrong—he had to see her. If nothing else, Jesse was sure that seeing her would give him some sense of closure, and if it were what she genuinely desired, he would finally move on.

When the Armani suits were ordered and ready for next month, Jason and Jesse departed for the theatre, a heavy veil of silence over them.

"Jesse," Jason finally spoke, "I know this is going to be hard for you…I mean, the theatre said we didn't _have _to go…" Jesse stopped short at the opening to the subway and turned to face Jason.

"I have to go, Jason. I have to let her know I never stopped thinking about her."

"But I mean, don't you think that has the potential for disaster? If the paparazzi even catch one sniff that you two have a history, the newspapers are going to blow up," Jason warned, but Jesse shook his head fervently.

"It's going to be fine," he assured his friend as they packed into the crowded subway car.

"I'm just saying, negative publicity is the last thing you two need at this point in your careers," Jason shrugged, and glanced at his watch. "Ugh, Remy is going to kill us if we're late for this fitting, she hates those dresses," he commented. "I hate this stupid costuming bullshit, why do we have to try on 45 varieties of the same outfit?"

"Yeah, because making sure your ass doesn't fall out while you're dancing isn't important at all," Jesse laughed, while Jason rolled his eyes. "Whatever, he grumbled, leaning against the metal support pole. "I mean there is no reason to make me choose between four pairs of remarkably similar suspenders. Just pick them and put them on me." Jesse laughed again, and shrugged, unconsciously running a hand through his hair.

"I have total faith in Jess and the costume department," Jesse explained as they jumped out of the car and exited their stop. Jason heaved a sigh as he chased Jesse across an intersection.

"It's not that I don't have faith," Jason began, but his words quickly became distant as they passed the Palace Theatre and Rachel's face beamed down at him from the side of the wall. Jesse stopped dead, running his hand along her name, printed in shiny black lettering.

"Jesse," Jason warned, but Jesse stood motionless, marveling at Rachel's photos. The white dress she wore hung beautifully, and her hair was shiny and curled delicately. "Jesse, we're going to be even later than we already are," Jason grumbled, and Jesse bit down hard on his lower lip.

"Right," he spoke, turning slowly away from the building. He glanced over his shoulder once more as they departed, with the faint hope that he would see her emerging from the double doors, but as he turned away once more, the corners of his mouth turned upward.

Three more weeks.

* * *

Jesse's leg was bouncing as he sat anxiously in the back of the Hummer he shared with Jason. He'd been up the very second his alarm went off that morning, after barely sleeping the night before, and it had taken all the convincing in the world for Jesse not to throw on the suit and go to the theatre just to wait for her, although Jason had done it, somehow.

"Now remember, Natasha wants us to plug the show in as many interviews as we can," he was saying, but Jesse was staring out the window of the car, his heart thundering. This was it; the day was finally here. The past nine months had all lead up to this; finally he was going to have his shot at getting Rachel back. Jason glared at him for a moment before finally grabbing his attention, and let out an aggravated sigh.

"Jesse, this is serious! We can't go out there and make fools of ourselves," Jason gestured outside the car as they slowed into a line of cars and limousines.

"I am taking this seriously," Jesse protested, shooting a vicious glare right back. "You just have to understand where I'm coming from—"

"I do, but they wont," Jason nodded outside. "And under _no _circumstances are they to know, do you understand?" Jason's nostrils flared as he reiterated the statement their publicist, Natasha, had told him countless times after Jesse's feelings had surfaced during a meeting.

"I _know, _Jason, just let me be excited, okay?" Jesse protested, and Jason stared at him disappointedly for a moment before returning his gaze to the window.

'That's a lot of people," he commented.

"Yeah."

"Holy shit, dude. We're famous."

Jesse was amazed with just how unprepared he was for a red carpet premiere. As the door to their car opened, screams erupted, and he could distinctly make out shouts of his name. He pulled the sharpie from his inner jacket pocket and began the rigmarole of signing autographs, amazed that people somehow had his headshot.

"We love you Jesse!" a gaggle of girls screeched, and Jesse flashed them a winning smile as flash bulbs went off and screams erupted.

"Can we get a photo of you and Jason?" a photog asked, and Jesse stepped back, happy to oblige the paparazzi. The two stood together for a few moments, cameras flashing from every direction, then Jesse turned his attention to a young woman with a microphone.

"Mr. St. James! Hi, I'm Jacki with Backstage Magazine," the short blonde shook his hand. "This is your first premiere experience, yes?"

"That is correct, but I'm loving it!" Jesse shot her the winning smile, and she blushed, appearing somewhat flustered, before she continued.

"How are things coming along with "Newsies?" Is it as ambitious of a project as has been rumored?"

"'Newsies' is phenomenal, truly. We were just in the recording studio last week, so the Cast Recording will drop soon, and it's just been amazing. People keep throwing around rumors that Christian Bale wants to drop by, so who knows," Jesse laughed heartily, trying to keep the trembling in his fingers unnoticed. The blonde giggled herself, and glanced down at her notepad for a moment.

"Now you and your fellow lead Jason Charlotte are remarkably new when it comes to big time theatre, am I correct? How has that been, I mean, have you been given any troubles from your fellow castmates?"

"Well there are a few other 'newbie Newsies,' as Harvey likes to call us, in non-principal roles, but I mean, I'm starring opposite Remy Zaken, so that's been intimidating. But no, she's an amazing actress and I'm so lucky," Jesse nodded earnestly, and the woman smiled at him.

"Thanks so much for your time, Mr. St. James. Enjoy the show! Mr. Rapp!" Jesse blinked a few times—he wasn't sure why, but he'd always assumed that interviews would be conducted for the length of time that he deemed worthy—but then again, he was a celebrity barely out of his shell; there would be time to change things like that. He continued down the path, scrawling his name on photos and smiling for photographs, and before he knew it (or was prepared for it) he was inside the theatre.

His hands were trembling as he and Jason were escorted to their seats. He swore he could hear the high pitched squeak of Kristen Chenoweth, but he couldn't be sure, as he couldn't see her over the heads of the many tall Broadway Alumni. When they were sent to their middle balcony seats, Jesse swore his heart was catching in his throat. Rachel was here; she was in the very same building. She and Jesse would shortly be occupying the same 500 feet for the first time since August, and it was suddenly terrifying—the fear that she would have a completely new life and have totally forgotten about him.

Jesse sat with baited breath as he waited for Rachel's big stage debut. Those initial twenty or so minutes of the show were complete torture, and as desperately as he tried to pay attention, all he could think about was Rachel. Did she know he was coming tonight? Would she feel his presence regardless?

After what felt like hours, the final chords of "Something's Coming" rang out, and Jesse's heart stopped. The lights went dim, and there was some movement onstage. Jesse straightened in his seat, and briefly caught eyes with Jason. As the lights came up, Jesse was suddenly thankful he hadn't had time to eat that day—otherwise he was sure he would have been sick from nerves.

Those first few seconds when Jesse finally saw her again—really saw her, not just looked at some picture in a magazine—felt like hours. He would have had trouble believing it was Rachel if he hadn't known—her hair was dark and short, even shorter than it had been in the magazine. She was tanned, and frankly, she looked perfectly like a Maria.

"Por favor, Anita. Make the neck lower!" Jesse was shocked—she had an accent.

"Stop it Maria."

"One inch. How much can one little inch do?" Jesse shifted uncomfortably as he observed her in the pure white petticoat, suddenly recalling the circumstance under which he had last been with her. Another inch would send him into an early grave.

"It is now to be a dress for dancing, no longer for kneeling in front of an altar."

"With these boys you can start in dancing and end up kneeling." There was a brief pause to allow the audience to chuckle, and Jesse's face was still warm as Rachel continued.

"Querida, one little inch, uno poca poca—" Rachel's Spanish was perfect, and Jesse smiled—knowing her, she'd spent days with a linguist perfecting it. That was his star, assuring that every detail was spot on.

Slowly, Jesse began to dwell less on the fact it was Rachel onstage and more on her acting—she _was_ superb. He impatiently waited to hear sing again—no matter how many times he heard "Oh Holy Night," it couldn't replace the cool velvety softness of hearing her live.

As Rachel began "Tonight," Jesse felt an overwhelming sense of pride. Yes, she had always been talented, but had it not been for him, that talent would have remained unknown. He had to admit the chemistry between her and "Tony" was tangible, and quite frankly, that worried him a bit. He had to continually remind himself she was acting, shake off that feeling of jealousy each tome "Tony" touched her face. It was strange, envying someone because they were pretending to be in love with Rachel.

Despite this being one of his favorite Broadway shows, Jesse found himself bored nearly to tears whenever Rachel wasn't onstage. His mind would often get lost, wondering what she was thinking or feeling, and he would snap to attention when she returned to the spotlight. The rest of the cast was adequate, but no one could even try to compare to the way Rachel hone onstage-she truly did steal the show.

By the end of the second act, Jesse was in tears. Rachel's performance was heartbreaking, and her voice echoed in the silent theatre after her painful scream of "don't you touch him!" Her hands were stained red and she was sobbing, and her pain was so believable Jesse could visibly see people shivering. The show ended with the haunting orchestral notes it was so well known for, and there were a few moments of stunned silence before the theatre rang into raucous applause. The cast returned for curtain call, and as Rachel stepped forth to take her bow, the theatre exploded into screams and catcalls, and Jesse broke into a wide beaming smile.

Every member of that audience was going nuts, and Rachel was crying once more, this time tears of her own pure joy. "Tony" handed her a bouquet of flowers and pulled her into a tight hug, and her castmates continued to beam and cheer. The audience members had risen to their feet in standing ovation, and Jesse and Jason quickly joined.

"She really is good," Jason admitted, and Jesse nodded.

"She's amazing," he replied earnestly. Jason looked to him, concerned.

"So you're really serious about confronting her tonight?" he asked, and Jesse sighed.

"It's not a confrontation, and besides, I have to. If I don't…I mean it may already be too late, look at her and that guy," he nodded back to the stage, but Jason shook his head.

"Nope. Gay."

"What? How do you know?"

"I can just tell," Jason shrugged. Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Look, I can't risk it. I need her back, and this is it, this is my chance."

As the applause died down and the pride of the Broadway world began mingling and departing for the afterparties, Jesse confidently made his way backstage, surprisingly without conflict—having celebrity status really moved you up in the world.

He followed the labyrinthine passages of the backstage, squeezing through crowds of people giving their congratulations and changing out of costume. As he reached the individual dressing rooms however, he slowed and partially concealed himself behind a rack of flamenco dresses.

"So we'll meet you at the restaurant by eleven?" a familiar female voice spoke.

"I'll do my best, I mean I've still got stagedoor, plus any last minute press junket junk." The words sounded so natural coming from Rachel's lips. "I know you need to get back to the hotel and Beth."

"Rachel, sweetheart, tonight is about you! Besides, Noah and Quinn are having the time of their life finally getting to be with Beth."

"And you're sure they'll be here tomorrow night?"

"They wouldn't stop talking about it the entire way up," a male voice spoke. "They were bummed to miss opening night, but we all agreed it was best if Beth stayed at the hotel." Jesse chuckled—so Shelby and Schuester were still together.

"But we _should_ get going if we want to make the reservation and so you can do your press things," Schuester warned Shelby.

"And your dads are meeting us there?"

"Yes! I'll see you later!" Jesse watched the women hug tightly, and the adult couple exit hand in hand, and slinking past petticoats, ventured forward with a deep breath.

He stood in her doorway for a moment, unsure how to begin. Finally, Jesse knocked softly on the doorjamb.

"Not too bad. You put Natalie Wood to shame, that's for sure," he began. Rachel jumped, and greeted him with an expression he could only register as horror.

"I…Jesse?" she spoke barely above a whisper. They stared at one another for a moment before he stepped forward smiling, but Jesse's heart was already aching—this didn't seem to be heading towards the fairy tale reunion he had imagined.

"So Puck and Quinn?" he said finally. Rachel laughed softly and nodded.

"It's actually a very cute story, he plotted with Mr. Schue and he got a solo for Regionals—they took place in April this year—and I guess he went out on stage and before he started singing was just like, "Quinn Fabray, I know this year has been rocky, but I just need you to know that I love you," or something," Rachel explained, laughing slightly and chewing on her bottom lip. "Beth's almost one," she added. As much as he wanted to care, Jesse couldn't be bothered to care about what Puck had sung or how old Rachel's adopted half-sister was. When he looked at her, all he saw was the pain she had caused him. All the hurt he had felt not knowing where she had gone; yet she'd been here all the time. Jesse rubbed his temples and shook his head.

"This isn't right…"

"I'm sorry?"

"I was supposed to want to grab you in my arms and kiss you and tell you I love you and I want to be together. This is all wrong…"

"Jesse—"

"Why?"

"What?"

"You left me, Rachel."

"I had to," she began to argue, but Jesse reflexively ran a hand through his hair and slammed his other hand against the door.

"You did not!"

"You took me away from everything! My friends, my family—"

"And now you're a Broadway celebrity! Congratu-fucking-lations! You should be _thanking _me!"

"You ignored me for two months Jesse!" Rachel was nearly screaming, her voice going raw. "For two months, all you cared about was your own success, and I was just a tool you used to get here!"

"That is bullshit," Jesse hissed, his heart racing. "You _hated _that I had a job and you didn't. You detested that I'd been cast so you just left. No note, no warning. You could have told me how you felt, Rachel—oh, what a novel concept!"

"You have no idea what it was like!" Rachel sobbed.

"Why didn't you come back?" he shouted.

"Why didn't you come after me?" she argued.

"I called you every day for a week, almost a month, and then you changed your damn number!"

"I was scared! I didn't want to need you!"

"Well congratulations, clearly you didn't. You fucking did it, Rachel. You're a star. How does it feel? Does it feel good, abandoning everybody who's ever cared about you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well what it means, Rachel. It means that you left me clueless for almost nine months, wondering where in the hell you had gone to, not even knowing if you were _alive—" _

"They wanted me to keep it secret," she protested quietly, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"I loved you," he said, and he watched her blink back tears and realizing how hard that must have stabbed her, having to hear him say that phrase again. "I mean, still do, but I'm furious Rachel. I've spent all this time trying to find you that I never even thought about what I would say, but here it is. I hate you for doing this to me. For leaving me with nothing and no one, having to find a way to start all over—"

"Well now you know how it feels!" she shot back, and Jesse shook his head in disgust.

"I came back for you, Rachel. Sure, it took me a little while, but it was nowhere near nine months."

"Is there a problem?" a male voice asked from behind him. Jesse turned and was face to face with "Tony." Fighting heavily against his instinct to pummel the man in the face, Jesse turned back to Rachel, disgusted.

"I was just leaving. Congratulations," he spat, before storming past "Tony," out of Rachel's dressing room and out through the theatre; past the ushers who advised he use the stage door, and out into the street, where he nearly barreled down a paparazzo.

The apartment was empty when Jesse got home; Jason had obviously gone to an afterparty. Furiously, Jesse ripped down the photo of he and Rachel that remained on the refrigerator. He tossed his Sondheim biography off the bookshelf and to the floor. Losing every bit of composure he had, he let out a primal scream and collapsed in a heap, his hopes and Armani suit crumpling beneath him.

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**A/N: *Ducks out of way of garbage and furniture being thrown her way* Soon, I promise! Just stick with me, I swear it will be worth it! **


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Again, my sincerest apologies for the delay in an update...but I think you guys might just forgive me for this one...it's quite a few months in the making. ;] Remember, reviews are wonderful and spark my muse, and you guys are AMAZING for sticking with this as long as you have!**

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The phrase putting your pain into your work had never had a more literal meaning for Jesse. He refused to acknowledge Rachel's existence, and he pretended West Side Story wasn't even a currently running show. He ignored the reviews, refused to look at photos from the event; he was forcing the whole incident—and maybe the whole year—out of his memories

He should have listened to everyone who had warned him talking to Rachel would be nothing but bad news. They had been right all along, and Jesse had simply been blinded—she didn't want him, and that was why she had left. It had all been a waste—all of his pain, all of his agony. Rachel had slipped through his fingertips, and now he was sure that all of his emotional and physical energy _had _to be put into the show. His castmates feared he was slowly killing himself, but he assured them he'd done far worse in high school. Both Jason and Harvey were constantly begging him to stop overworking himself, but Jesse insisted he was simply trying to avoid any bad press.

"Jesse, seriously, we need to lock up!"

"Okay Lou! Give me just a few more minutes!" Jesse called to the janitors offstage, who rolled their eyes and waved him off. Uncharacteristically, Jesse was terribly anxious—private reviews of the show were coming up, and he still didn't feel completely confident in his dance steps for 'Seize the Day'. Jason and the rest of the cast were continually begging him to stop overworking himself, but Jesse refused to allow any bad press about himself or his performance.

"Come on, dude. We've gotta get going," Lou approached him, and Jesse sighed heavily.

"Yeah, fine," he gave the custodian a curt nod before hopping offstage and changing into his Pumas, throwing a light sweatshirt over his sweaty rehearsal tee.

It was a miracle he even saw her sitting there, the lights were so dim. He'd nearly been out the theatre doors when she'd caught his attention, a tiny shadow in the row of darkened seats.

"Rachel?" he could barely squeak out, terrified she would vanish; become a hazy memory. "What are you…is everything okay?" she wouldn't return his gaze, and Jesse feared the worst. Was she in trouble? Had something happened? He _was _the only person she knew in the city-her dads had returned to Ohio for the time being to deal with some fiscal issues. "Rachel, what's going on?" he asked, pulling the seat down beside her.

She finally turned to look at him with a frown plastered on her face, speaking with a shaky, broken tone.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, Jesse," she began, and he heard her breath shudder. "And the truth is that you were right. I was angry, I was…jealous. I was the one who was supposed to be a star, Jesse, and I…I felt betrayed," Rachel admitted, wringing her hands and folding them in her lap.

"So I left, because…because I thought it would help, you know, putting myself first. I don't know where I was going really—I couldn't have gone back to Ohio; that would have meant defeat. I think I thought I was going to come back to you really, but then I met Shane and I got the role and I guess I just thought it was a sign—that I had to let you go." Her breathing was ragged, and Jesse knew how difficult it was for her to come to terms and admit the things she'd been so desperately trying to hide. Jesse too was having difficulty breathing properly, but he struggled to keep his emotions in check as he listened to Rachel spill her heart out, dying to simply reach out and hold her.

"I wanted to come back to you, Jesse. I did. But I couldn't let myself center my life and my goals around anyone except me. And I told myself that if it was really meant to be—if you really wanted it—you would make it happen. Then when I saw you at the theatre I just…I just froze, Jesse. Because when it comes down to it," she paused, taking a deep breath, and then turned her heavy lidded gaze to him. "When it comes down to it, it's always been you."

In the dull, dimly lit theatre, Jesse pulled Rachel to her feet, wiping away a tear that lingered in the corner of her eye.

"You, Rachel. I'm in love with you. And I'd give up every role I was ever given if it meant I had you," Jesse pushed her matted post-show hair out of her face with his thumbs and held his breath as Rachel shook her head sorrowfully.

"Jesse I'm…I do love you, but I…I can't do that. That isn't me. Performing is my life, Jesse. I _do _love you, but I can't make you a promise like that."

For a moment, he felt like his entire world had ended again; that his heart had died once more, but he realized that she was right. He couldn't ask her to ever choose him over the one thing she adored since she was a child—that wasn't fair, and that was precisely what Finn had done.

"Rachel," he began, never letting go of her face, "I under stand, and I probably would have said the same thing before I knew you. But if losing you has taught me one thing, it's how much I need you in my life to survive. I promised you epic romance once, Rachel, and I don't go back on my promises."

Fully aware that Lou and the rest of the staff were probably watching, Jesse moved his hand to Rachel's waist, pulling her in and sliding his other hand gently to her chin. He wanted that fairy-tale reunion that they both deserved, and felt her melting back into his arms; back where she belonged, and he smiled as he pulled her chin up and met her lips with his own. Jesse was damn well sure that the heavens opened and Sondheim himself conducted the cantata that went off in Jesse's mind as he realized that he had her; that she was back and she was _his. _

"Jesse I've missed you so much," Rachel sobbed, her hysterics hitting hard. Jesse nodded, fighting to keep up and wipe away her tidal waves of tears.

"I know, I know. I love you, Rachel, it's okay."

"I'm so sorry," she hiccupped, and Jesse pulled her in tightly, resting his chin on her forehead.

"You're forgiven. I love you," he repeated, kissing the top of her head. "Come on, let's go get something to eat, okay? You just did a show, and all this crying isn't helping your blood sugar."

It was nearing 1am by the time they wandered into the nearly empty diner. After ordering them both a cup of coffee, and assuring they would bring Rachel extra sugar and non-dairy creamer, Jesse took Rachel's hand in his own across the booth and offered her a hopeful smile.

"Hi," he said finally, and Rachel rolled her eyes, having calmed down quite a bit.

"Honestly, Jesse. WE haven't spoken in months, and all you can think of to say is hello?" Jesse laughed, glancing sheepishly toward the table.

"Well, we always do seem to start with a hello," he rubbed his thumb over her hand, and Rachel giggled.

"I love you," she said finally, and Jesse sighed.

"I love you too, Rachel. So much," he smiled as the waitress brought their coffees.

"So what can I get you two sweethearts?" the gum-popping waitress asked.

"I'll just have a side salad, please? With low-calorie Italian dressing," Rachel added. The waitress nodded and turned to Jesse.

"And for you babe?"

"Burger, please," Jesse responded sheepishly, glancing to Rachel, who smiled.

"It'll be right up sweethearts,' the waitress smiled.

They sat in silence for quite some time, both unsure of what to do or what to say. There had been so many things Jesse had promised he'd say—promised he'd tell her when he was once more in her presence—but all of that seemed so trivial, so pointless now.

"So…are you nervous?" Rachel asked, and Jesse's heart dropped out. "About the show," she added, and Jesse let out a chuckle.

"_Oh," _Jesse smirked. "Honestly Rachel, that's all you can think of?" he asked, and Rachel scowled that scowl he'd come to miss so much.

"There is no need for your attitude, Jesse St. James," she huffed, and Jesse bit back another laugh.

"I'm sorry, babe," he smiled. "But I don't get nervous—at least not about anything but you."

Jesse woke to his phone alarm at 7 the next morning—only to realize not only was his alarm not meant to go off until 9, but it wasn't even the proper ringtone. Utterly puzzled, Jesse sat up groggily, reaching for his phone.

"'Lo?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, smiling as he noticed the still slumbering Rachel curled up beside him. The smile was almost immediately wiped from his face, however, by the piercing shout from the earpiece.

"The FUCK do you think you're playing at?" his publicist, Natasha, shouted.

"What?" he asked, his temples suddenly throbbing.

"Sleeping with the star of another show? Are you trying to murder your career before it's even begun?"

"How the hell…" Jesse's heart jumped to his throat—this could end _badly. _

"News travels fast, asshole. The blogs are blowing up! What are you thinking?"

"I love her!" Jesse growled, hurrying out to the living room. "She's the girl I've been chasing since even before I was cast, she was my high school girlfriend,' he tried to explain. The publicist gave an irritated growl."

"The public doesn't give two shits _what _she is, they just know the two of you are up and coming stars. They'll think it's a publicity stunt."

"Well then make a fucking statement, I don't' care! I love her, that's all that matters," Jesse ran a hand through his hair furiously, nostrils flaring.

"Jesse, please stop for a moment and consider what I'm saying. Your sex appeal is your biggest selling point, if you're in a relationship—"

"I don't _care, _how many times do I have to say it?" He was nearing his breaking point, when Rachel approached from the doorway, looking pale and uncomfortable in one of Jesse's black shirts. "Look, I'll call you back, okay?" he growled, slamming his phone shut.

"They know," Rachel whispered before he could even speak. "Everyone knows."

"So what?" Jesse questioned matter-of-factly. Rachel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking hopeless.

"Because, everyone thinks it's a stunt, and my career is barely off the ground! I just did an interview saying I would be single and independent, now people think I'm a hussy…" Rachel started pacing. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry Jesse, I never should have come to the theatre last night," Rachel cried, hurrying back into Jesse's room and gathering up her things, throwing the grey cutoff sweatpants over her bare legs.

"Rachel, stop," Jesse pleaded, the world starting to crash down around him; the dream collapsing. The freshly healed wounds on his heart were once more torn open with force. "Please Rachel, don't do this," he begged as she swapped the shirts and threw her keys deliberately into her bag.

"No Jesse, I can't. This…my career," she was fighting back tears, "I just can't," she made her way for the door.

"Rachel, don't you _dare _do this to me again," Jesse's voice cracked and his fingers trembled as he chased her out of the bedroom. "I can't lose you three times. _I just can't."_

She was frozen in the same spot he'd seen her during their last fight, the day before she'd left. Jesse stepped forward and took her things, setting them gently on the ground, and cupped her face in his hands. As Rachel's eyes brimmed with tears, Jesse sniffed back his own, and coughed slightly.

"Rachel, it has always been you for me. I don't even know who I _was _before you; I don't even think I was human. I was soulless, I was spineless, and I was conceited. But I met you, and you taught me how to be me, you taught me who I was. You told me it was okay to feel and that I could love and I could hurt, and I need you, Rachel Berry," Jesse hiccupped, wiping her tears with his thumb. "And I will valiantly put up with whatever hell we have to face if it means that in the end, I'm closer to having you, and keeping you this time," Jesse's breath was shaky, and he stared at Rachel's tear streaked face. "Please?" he whispered, and Rachel's lips crashed into his. Jesse placed both hands on her face, all the pain and fear and anguish escaping between as their lips and tongues fought for control. When they broke apart, Jesse rested his forehead on hers, finally wiping away his own tears.

"I love you," he whispered. "You're a star, and you _need_ to shine, but for the love of god, shine with me," he kissed her forehead, and she nodded feebly.

"Of course," she whispered. "Of course Jesse." He moved his hands to her waist, lifting her to his hips with a smirk.

"I've always wanted to do that, you see it in movies all the time," he explained, and Rachel laughed through her tears, leaning down to kiss him. ""We're going to make a wonderful tabloid tale," he added, and Rachel glanced to him, a confident smirk fighting against her tear stained cheeks.

"Bring it."

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**A/N: It's not over yet guys! Just how will the media react to Jesse and Rachel once they've been outed, and how will it affect Jesse and the way people view him right before the opening of his big show? Stay tuned to find out! **


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I know, I know. It's been almost a year, but something in my life was demanding me to go back to this. First, 'Newsies' becomes a real musical, then last night I found the notebook that held a majority of the rest of the story (which I'd thought I'd lost), and then today Lea tweets about Jon being on set? I just had to. Now remember, when I created 'Newsies: The Musical,' I was basing it mostly on the film, so Remy still plays the sister, that hasn't changed. I do, however, make mention of other pieces of the actual musical, so it's a bit of a hybrid of both. I hope you enjoy, and I'm SO sorry I've kept you waiting this long. Also, I'm not sure how much longer this will be; I really want to get to the ending/epilogue before this season ends, but I'm not sure how well that will actually work out. **

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To say there were mixed reviews about Broadway's new "it" couple was putting it lightly. Some called them a trainwreck stunt; others called them, "The cutest thing since the Vincent's." The publicity had actually done wonders for both of them; although it made any kind of "normal" dating impossible. Midnight, post-show meals became routine, and new photos of them over dinner or walking back to her apartment spread across the web like wildfire. It was strange, really, having a true tabloid romance. Both had imagined their entire lives what it would be like, but it was entirely different than either had expected, and by the time Jesse's "Backstage Magazine," interview rolled around, _'St. Berry' _was all anyone could talk about.

"Most of us…all of us, really, were completely shocked to find that you two had a history together. I mean, her selling point was the small town girl from Ohio, and part of your allure was your mystery—no one knew where you were from. So we're all just dying to know; are you the mystery ex she refers to in most of her old interviews?"

Jesse had to laugh—they were so preoccupied with his personal life and not his talent—but he obliged them and gave a very brief tale of how they came to New York together to find stardom.

"And you were actually slated to be in 'Chess,' originally, yes?"

"Yeah, I was a choir member and dancer for an off-Broadway production. It was a great experience; I met so many amazing people, and I learned so much—"

"Is it true that Miss Berry left you while you were in this show due to jealousy and an inability to cope with your impending stardom?" Miffed, Jesse glared at the man.

"Isn't this question a little _personal," _he spat. "I'm not really comfortable talking about Rachel like this." The man marked something on his iPad but quickly moved on.

"Was it a shock to be cast with your good friend?"

When the interview hit stands, Jesse was amazed at the ability of the press to create utter drivel out of words hardly spoken.

"_His mystic, brooding tone might seem like some snobbish, Edward Cullen-like façade, but it simply covers the delicate, wounded artist beneath…_what is this garbage?" Jesse hissed, while Jason read on over his shoulder.

"'St. James, who tenses each time on-again, off again beau Berry's name is brought up, seems at first such a peculiar choice for a character so vivacious, but the moment his voice rings in 'Something To Believe In,' it is evident every word in that song is directed to the tiny brunette and the outlandish journey they've taken together. St. James appears to only have Berry and 'Newsies' to keep him grounded, and it will be quite a journey following the man's skyrocket to success…' Jesus, I can't wait to see the new one he rips me," Jason whistled, closing the magazine and tossing it to the table.

"I'm putting my money on womanizer…maybe who envies his co-star's imminent fame..." Jesse teased.

"And who turns to alcohol as his greatest solace," Jason added dramatically. "What a load of garbage. This guy should be fired."

"Or arrested for slander. Or libel…whatever it is. Sucking." They laughed, and Jason smiled at him for a moment.

"You know, it really is good to see you happy, dude. You really had us worried for a while." Jesse shrugged at his friend, and they stared at one another from across the kitchen counter. "You deserve to be together, Jesse, and I'm…I'm just really happy everything worked out."

"Oh my god are you getting emotional?"

"Shut up," Jason snapped as Jesse bit down on both lips stifling a laugh. "You're an asshole."

* * *

"Will you hurry up? I told Rach we'd pick her and Puckerman up at 4, and the car's almost here."

"Everyone's going to know this is the same tuxedo!" Jason complained from the tall mirror that hung on the back of his door, fighting with his unruly hair. Jesse leaned on the doorframe with a smirk as he watched his friend panic.

"Just roll with it," Jesse suggested, nodding to Jason's hair. "And no one gives a shit if you wear a tux or not. Make a statement and show up in one of your trusty plaid shirts." Jesse watched Jason consider the idea for a moment before shaking his head and fighting with his skinny tie.

"I look like a maître d'." Jason sighed. Jesse snorted, then glanced to his phone.

"This'll be the car, come on," he gestured, answering the call and explaining they were on their way down.

"Rachel," he spoke into the phone as he slid into the limo, "Hey, we're just leaving. Did Puck make it in yet, or are we meeting him at the theatre?"

"We're meeting at the theatre. His flight was dreadfully late and he's stuck in traffic on the way over." Rachel explained, sounding exasperated.

"Well we're on our way, I'd say about twelve minutes?" Jesse guessed, gauging traffic.

"How oddly specific," Rachel teased. "I'll be waiting!" she squealed, and Jesse grinned as he hung up the phone.

"She was a vision in yellow as she rushed toward the car, beaming from ear-to-ear. Jesse's heart fluttered as she slid into the seat beside him, squeezing his hand tightly, all smiles.

"This is so exciting! My premiere was so lonesome. Oh can you imagine the photos?" she was bouncing, and Jesse bit back a laugh. Rachel was _made _for this; Rachel _was _Broadway.

The flashbulbs were blinding as they meandered down the carpet; signing autographs and posing for photographs. Eventually Jesse was pulled away for obligatory photos with his cast, but the media were mostly concerned with the power-couple. As they reached the theatre doors, Rachel reached for Jesse's hands.

"This is it," he laughed, and Rachel beamed.

"I am so proud of you, " she spoke gently, and timidly, Jesse looked to the ground before looking back into her eyes.

"Yeah?"

"You have no idea," Rachel spoke, her voice thickening. "I mean, after all…you and me in front of sold out crowds was an inevitability, right?" she scrunched her nose, and Jesse broke into a wide smile before smashing his lips into hers, the crowd outside just barely catching a glimpse and erupting into cheers and chaos.

"Break a leg, okay?" Rachel giggled as they broke apart, and Jesse nodded.

"I love you."

"I know."

"Did you just Han Solo me?"

* * *

With trembling body and soul, Jesse warmed his voice and stretched in the far reaches of the 'Newsies' backstage. He was approximately fourteen minutes away from his true stage debut, and although the magazines and articles pegged him (and Jason) to be Broadway's breakout male stars and had praised the performances in the previews, it would be this performance that truly sealed his success. He looked to his costume, giving him one final onceover just as Jason and Remy approached.

"You look nervous," Remy noticed, and Jesse let out a small chuckle.

"Terrified. Which is a first, at least in terms of the stage…" he sighed, and Remy leaned over, squeezing his hand.

"You're amazing, and you're going to be amazing tonight. I promise!" she began bouncing. "Come on, guys, get excited! We've created something entirely new to share with the world, that doesn't happen every day!" She took Jason's hand in her other and grinned. "Now let's go out there and kick some ass!"

He could hear the orchestra tuning, feel the buzz of excitement from the crowded house, and he turned to face his castmates with a confident grin.

"We've got this. Let's go out there and show them how a Broadway musical is really done!" There were some whoops and cheers as they piled their hands in the center of a circle and let out a shout.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if you'll take your seats, the show will begin momentarily," the loudspeaker boomed throughout the theatre, which meant one thing to the cast and crew—five minutes until showtime.

"Everybody has their hats and canes and papes?" a young woman in charge of wardrobe commented, and when she was met with no complaints, she bid them all to break a leg and darted off. "I'll be in the sewing room if there are any major costume malfunctions, heaven forbid," she added, and strode off.

"Holy hell, Jesse. This is happening," Jason realized, and Jesse clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Yeah."

"What have we gotten into?" Jason asked, his face paling, and Jesse grinned.

"The best time of our lives," he sighed, pulling his friend and roommate in for a hug.

When Harvey Fierstien walked onto the stage, the murmuring crowd broke into thundering applause.

"Thank you, thank you," he laughed, holding up a hand. "No really, shut up, you haven't seen the show yet," he joked. "So, 'Newsies.' When they approached me way back in '08 about trying this, I thought they were crazy. But here we are, and it has been a phenomenal journey. I ask all of you to sit back, relax, and enjoy the very first performance of 'Newsies: The Musical.' "

Sucking in a deep breath, Jesse waited for the overture to finish, and then shot one last glance to Jason before taking the stage with Andrew, setting aside all thoughts of anything but the performance.

It had been a long journey over the last year. Jesse had never really believed in fate; that was to say nothing had lead him to. But now, as he stood before a sold-out crowd pouring his heart out into his life's trade, he knew it to be true. Had it not been for that fateful day in this very same city when he'd thought he'd seen Rachel, he would never have been here; never would have had the guts to face Rachel again and never would have been able to make it right.

He'd been right—they always were inevitable.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this feels short, but this is what I had written, with a few adjustments (good lord my grammar is horrendous when I handwrite things). I'm thinking one or two more chapters before an epilogue, but don't hold me to anything; I could always change my mind. Again, I'm SO sorry I abandoned her, but I've come back to set things right!**


	32. Chapter 32

Jesse St. James was no stranger to applause, but the screams that rang out as he hurried onstage for his curtain call were unparalleled by anything he'd experienced before. The excitement and joy of the audience absolutely emanated onto the stage, and despite his best efforts, the stoic Jesse St. James couldn't help the quiver in his bottom lip as he waved to the audience, grinning like a madman. As the cast lined up to take another bow, he caught eyes with Jason, and the two threw arms around each other, beams wide and proud. With Jason holding one hand and Remy holding the other, they gave one final bow before darting backwards, attempting to avoid the lowering curtain. Whoops and catcalls rang out across the backstage; the performance had been flawless, truly their best yet, and everyone knew it. Costume pieces were quickly being removed and props tossed about; everyone eagerly awaited the refreshments that would be laid out in celebration for their big night.

Jesse made his way to his dressing room, calls of congratulations and jobs well done being tossed his way, and by the time he finally reached the room and was able to give a techie his mic pack, well-wishers and close friends were beginning to seep into the bowels of the theatre. He'd barely had a chance to change out of the costume and throw back on the dress trousers and white tee when a tiny brunette head came bobbling through the crowd, throwing herself into his arms.

"Jesse you were _phenomenal," _Rachel gushed, arms wrapped tightly around him. "I couldn't even believe it—I mean obviously I knew you were talented but that was just…you're amazing!" She finally let him go, straightening her dress, and leaned against the vanity anxiously as he gathered his things. "Oh everyone's so proud; you should have heard the audience, absolutely everyone was praising your performance—as they should, of course, but still, any good praise is going to help you out. I'd bet full houses for at least the first two months of performances, the press is going to adore you!" she was talking a mile a minute, but Jesse was thankful, he really needed a few minutes to gather himself and his thoughts. He was sure he'd be doing a lot of public relations and socializing at the afterparty, and it was honestly best if he saved his voice for all the ass-kissing he'd inevitably have to perform. He shook his hair a bit, attempting to loosen the matted, sweaty curls, then turned to Rachel as he fixed the top button on the dress shirt, the coat resting across his left arm.

"Ready then?" he asked, and she grinned, standing and taking his other arm.

"Quite. Oh Jesse just wait until you see, there are _so _many people, and everyone wants _our _autographs, isn't it silly?"

When he passed through the doors into the lobby, he was tacken aback at the sheer grandiose of everything. The room was overly crowded, and A list New Yorkers and Broadway elites milled around carrying plates of crustless sandwiches and flutes of champagne. Flashbulbs immediately flashed in his direction, and blinking, he glanced to Rachel.

"Jesus," he mumbled, and Rachel laughed.

"You'll get used to it—come on, I heard the cucumber sandwiches are just divine." They made their way across the crowded floor to a velvet-covered table hosting several platters of hors d'oeuvres, and Jesse, famished from the performance, made himself a plate of three sandwiches, what looked to be some kind of seafood tart, and a few stuffed mushrooms.

"Rachel!" a voice called out, and the couple glanced up to see Noah meandering across the crowd. "St. James, congratulations," he nodded, and Jesse smiled his appreciation through a mouthful of crab. "We wondered where you guys had gotten to, everyone's waiting to see the man of the hour." Jesse's eyebrow furrowed, and he swallowed a large bite of the puff pastry.

"We?" he questioned, and Rachel bit back a grin.

"Come on!" she said, pulling his arm and following Noah through the labyrinth of bodies. Finally, they reached a small circle, and Jesse's jaw nearly hit the floor. Celebrities were one thing, but this was a crowd that shocked him in an entirely different aspect. Beaming, Puck held out his hand to present Shelby, in a stunning black cocktail dress, and Will, who stood behind her tentatively as though he felt he shouldn't really be there. Shelby extended her arms, enveloping Jesse in the tightest of hugs.

"I always had faith in you," she gushed, squeezing him tighter. She pulled away, holding him by the shoulders, and Jesse was surprised by the damp glisten in her eyes.

"Shelby?" he questioned, and she dabbed at her teary eyes with the side of her pointer finger.

"Oh look at me," she rolled her eyes. "You have to understand, it's emotional, seeing my protégé all grown up and on a Broadway stage; and look at you two, you got everything you dreamed of when you left to come up here…" Will put a strong hand on Shelby's shoulder, and the older woman glanced appreciatively at him.

"Wow Shelby. Having a daughter really softened you out," a woman's voice interrupted. "Hey Jesse."

"Andrea Cohen, what the hell are you doing here?" Jesse laughed, eyes widening even farther and hugging the skinny young woman tightly.

"You thought I'd let you get away with celebrating your big break without me?" she ruffled Jesse's curls, and although he rolled his eyes, he turned to Rachel with a laugh.

"Rachel this is—"

"Andrea Cohen…" Rachel interrupted him, the irony of her gaze of absolute starstruck not lost on Andrea or Jesse. The taller female let out a laugh and took Rachel's hand warmly.

"I remember you," she said faintly, and Rachel blushed. "God you've grown up so much—not that it's a bad thing of course," Andrea reddened, and Rachel smiled. "Good on you, teaching this asshole how to love. It was about damn time," Andrea teased. Noah stared at her admiringly, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.

"Hey there. Noah Puckerman," he introduced himself, handing her the flute. Andrea laughed and raised an eyebrow, while Rachel huffed.

"Noah!" Rachel scolded, "You are incorrigible."

"Don't worry, Rachel. Sorry sweetheart, but you're not exactly my type," Andi bopped him on the nose, and Noah blinked a few times, startled, while Rachel let out a loud giggle.

"Jesse!" Jason's voice boomed, and before Jesse could react, he'd been tackled from behind. "We did it man!" Laughter bubbled over, and Jesse joyfully returned the hug.

"Congratulations!" a female voice called, and Jesse's eyes lit up once more as a familiar face waved at him.

"Molly!" he shouted, swinging the girl around in a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Jason invited me!" she beamed, and Jesse gave her a playful raise of his eyebrow, to which Molly simply shrugged, a smirk playing at her lips. She looked to Rachel, who was engrossed in conversation with Will, and nodded her head ever so slightly. "Is that her?" Molly questioned, and Jesse nodded.

"Yeah," he spoke placidly, and Molly squeezed his hand.

"She's beautiful," Molly spoke, and Jesse nodded, staring as Rachel's red-stained lips broke into a wide bout of laughter, her nose crinkling just-so.

"Yeah," he repeated, his voice even lighter, "She is." Molly squeezed his hand once more.

"I am so happy for you. About everything," she tilted her head in acknowledgement of the theatre. Jesse grinned at her, and she looked back to Jason. "You think it could happen to me someday?" she asked, and Jesse followed her gaze.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it did," he admitted, and Molly bit back a laugh.

"It's funny….if you told me a year ago this was happening, I would have said you were crazy." Jesse nodded in agreement.

"You have _no _idea." Molly snorted in agreement before hugging him tightly.

"You really are the best Jesse. I'm keeping your name handy, and if you ever have free time look me up. I'm sure I could find you a part!"

"Thanks Molly." Laughing, Jesse kissed the top of her head and watched as she darted away, driving Jason's attention away from an older New York socialite as he playfully wrapped his arms around her. Jesse made an attempt to find Rachel, but before he could get very far, his name was once more being called from behind, and he spun to find Taryn, Seth, and Nicky, donned in their very best.

"What are you guys doing here?" The phrase was repeated once more, and the trio simply grinned, Taryn leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

"Jason insisted we come! We weren't able to make it to the actual show, but we promise we will as soon as we can—"

"Just let us know a date; Jason and I can comp you some tickets!" Jesse beamed, shaking hands with Seth and Nicky. There was a shriek, and Rachel darted across the room to throw her arms around her former employer.

"Nicky!" She beamed, "Oh it's been _ages, _how are you?"

"I'm doing fine, business as usual. Oh look at you, you're so grown up!" Rachel giggled and spun to show off her gown, and Nicky nodded in approval.

"Absolutely stunn—" The sound of breaking glass interrupted his appraisal, and the hall grew silent. Jesse searched for the sound of the disruption, and found Shelby standing behind a growing puddle of champagne with an incredulous expression spreading across her face, concern and confusion on the face of Will and several others around her.

"_Nicky?" _It was less of a question than a statement, but the man bit down hard on his lower lip and nodded. Shelby practically floated across the marble floor and threw her arms around him, laughing and crying and feeling every available emotion. After a minute of pure confusion, during which anyone who wasn't privy to the two had continued prior conversation and the volume had risen back to normal, Shelby pulled away and adjusted her makeup.

""Well hell, woman, you aged way better than I did," Nicky spoke first, and the brunette rolled her eyes exaggeratedly before turning to explain.

"Will, this…this is Nicky. He was my best friend; really the only person I knew when I moved up here. He's the reason I made it really—he helped me through every time I would get upset about giving up Rachel." Shelby dabbed at her eyes again and laced her fingers through Will's. "When I moved back to Ohio we tried to stay in contact, but…I mean, it was what, '98? '99? The internet was hardly around, and long distance was such a hassle…"

"And I was the worst at remembering to write you back," Nicky said admittedly. Shelby nodded. "You've got that right," she laughed, before looking at him with tearful eyes yet again. "Rachel told me she met you but I…I just didn't know how it could be true," she smiled weakly, and Nicky shrugged.

"It's like watching you live your life all over again," he admitted, and Jesse smiled at them as they continued to reminisce. He looked to Rachel, who had a hand over her heart, eyes watery but smile wide. Jesse watched the scenes unfolding around him, and the smile on his lips was unbridled. It was all so unreal—the people he considered his family coming together in celebration of him and his achievements; relationships that had once been severed quickly reforming, relationships that had never come to fruition starting to bloom. He was jolted from his reverie by the sound of a throat clearing from behind him, and when he spun, he was absolutely certain he was in a state of dreaming.

Peter and Emily St. James stood before their only son. Peter's face was serious but relaxed, a look Jesse hadn't seen in years, while Emily's was soft. They looked almost proud, and Jesse couldn't fight the smile that threatened to escape.

"Son," Peter spoke matter-of-factly. Jesse shook his head, eyes narrowing in confusion and slight delight.

"What…what are you doing here?" he asked, and Emily beamed.

"Rachel sent us an invitation," Emily explained, and Jesse glanced over to where the brunette stood speaking with her mother and Nicky, catching Jesse's eye and looking away with a sly smile. Turning back to his parents, Jesse stared, bemused, as Emily held out a small bouquet of flowers and a card.

"You were wonderful," she continued, and Jesse smiled meekly at the gesture, retrieving the gifts and glancing back towards his father, who, after a moment's hesitation, nodded in agreement.

"It was quite good," Peter admitted, then faltered. "You…_you_ were really good."

It was as though a river of emotions had released from Jesse's insides. Stepping forward, he let the flowers fall to his side and allowed his mother to pull him into a hug, his father's firm grip patting his shoulder.

"We're so proud of you," Emily gushed, and Jesse looked from his mother's shoulder into his father's eyes. Although Peter didn't speak his agreement, Jesse could sense it; could see it in the older man's dark eyes. All Jesse had ever desired was acceptance from his father, and here, finally, it was. All this time; all the hard work had lead to this, and Jesse St. James knew; no matter what would come of his career, whether his success continued to skyrocket or he was never cast in another show again, nothing could or would ever compare. Straightening, Jesse composed himself.

"Mom, dad, I'd like you to, properly, meet my girlfriend Rachel Berry."

* * *

**A/N: I know, cheesy, but Jesse's been through a lot; he deserves some good in his life! **


End file.
